


Merely a Business Proposal

by orphan_account



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jack is very manipulative in this one, M/M, Maliwan is actually significant, Modern AU, Rhys is full of sass, Rhys is having biological clock issues, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, but not for long, get out, jack is having a midlife crisis, so if you don't like that, the city is entirely based on real places, they aren't going to die though, very romeo and juliet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where Rhys is the spoiled rich kid heir to Maliwan. He is temporarily taking up presidential responsibilities because his mother has become fatally ill. Jack is still the classic ruthless CEO of Hyperion who sees an opportunity to take over his main competition. He plans to marry Rhys and kill him after his mother dies so that Maliwan is left to him, under false pretenses that Rhys is a woman. Needless to say he gets a big surprise, but he decides to go through with his plan anyway. Cue both of them trying to keep their fake relationship secret, and Jack taking poor sheltered Rhys out of his comfort zone, much to the disapproval of Rhys’ mother if she were to know. Jack doesn’t realize that he is slowly starting to actually like Rhys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> It turns out Rhys is not a woman. Who knew? Not Jack.

Jack has never been a patient man in any sense of the word. As far as he is concerned, he has already done his share of waiting for life to stop putting him through hell. He would do it all again though, if it meant he would become Hyperion’s insanely rich and powerful CEO. Jack figures that is why he lacks the ability to wait, he doesn’t have to anymore. Whatever he wants he gets, and he gets it immediately; however, there are still some things he couldn’t control. One of these things is other people, to a certain extent. 

The sound of his fingers tapping on his desk echoes off the walls of his spacious office. He has been fidgeting for so long that a sharp tingling sensation starts to develop in his fingertips, all of which are turning red from repeated impact with the desk. He looks out the window behind him. The sun is much too low over the city for it to be the time he scheduled this meeting. Staring down at the knicks impatience has made in his fingernails, he finally decides to give up on waiting.

“BLAKE!” Jack shouts loud enough to be heard three hallways away. Instantly he hears the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

“Mr. Lawrence sir, what may I assist you with?” the blond man asks as soon as he enters the room. He smiles his usual polite, yet devious smile, ready to please. He could play Jack’s ego like a fiddle, and Jack knows it, but he can't stand to get rid of his best yes man. 

“What’s the hold up with Maliwan, huh? She was supposed to be here almost an hour ago. You’re lucky I waited this long,” Jack asks.

“You weren’t told, sir? Mrs. Maliwan has been quite ill lately. I’ve heard she’s bed ridden.”

“Blake, do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to work this merger? And by merger of course I mean give me your company or I’ll kill you, but my point still stands! You’re telling me the chick is basically dead anyway?” 

“Yes and yes,” Blake responds calmly, swaying back and forth on his heels a bit.

“Well, glad to see you’re so damn happy about it,” Jack scoffs.

“Actually your meeting isn’t completely ruined. I got Maliwan to send over a representative,” Blake replies proudly. 

“A representative, eh? Who is it? A VP or somethin?”

At that Blake pulls a small yellow planner out of the inner pocket of his pin striped coat. After shuffling around a few crinkled sticky notes and some folded papers, he finds the page that will give him his answer. 

“Apparently we are to be graced by the presence of Mailwan’s own offspring.” 

“So old lady Maliwan’s got a kid. Who knew?”

“It would appear so.”

“How old?”

“Twenty seven is what I have written here.” 

“Good, good I can work with that. I think I remember her mentioning a kid, a daughter right?” Jack muses quietly. His eyes narrow and the very edges of his lips turn up ever so slightly. Blake can see a plan forming. 

“Far be it from me to question you, sir, but why do you ask?” 

“Think about it, Jeff. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“I’m not following you.”

“No it’s fine. Just thinking out loud here, but what if I don’t need a hostile takeover to get Maliwan? What if I could just write my name on a piece of paper and it would all be mine?”

“That certainly would be nice, Jack. Unfortunately for us it doesn’t work that way.”

“Or does it, Blake? Think about it. Everyday people willingly promise each other fifty percent of their shit just by saying some words and signing a piece of paper.”

Blake furrows his brows for a moment before he realizes what Jack is playing at. Jack watches his eyes widen as he figures out what he meant. 

"Sir, you can’t possibly be suggesting that you would… You would…”

“Think about it Blake, the old gal’s dying anyway, and she’s leaving her daughter behind. Her lonely, mourning, daughter, wondering where to turn to, searching for comfort, left with such a big responsibility on her shoulders- I mean being the heiress to a big bad company and all.”

“While that  _ is _ an excellent plan, sir. I think I should tell you that-” 

“Shut up, you haven’t even heard the half of it yet,” Jack continues his grand speech, blatantly ignoring Blake’s attempt to cut in. “That’s when I, Handsome Jack, charming CEO, sweeps her off her feet.”

“But-”

“Uh, uh, Jeff, I know what you’re going to say and I’m way ahead of you. Ya see that’s the beautiful thing. If I marry this chick no one will suspect that her own loving husband would kill her.” 

“Yes, very well thought out,” Blake answers with his artificial smile still plastered to his face. Fortunately Jack doesn’t notice the hint of sarcasm in his voice. “However-” 

Blake is cut off yet again by a knock on the door, at which point he figures it isn’t even worth saying.His boss will just have to find out on his own. “Well, that must be them. I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” He folds his arms making a beeline for the door. “Excuse me,“ he grumbles sharply, brushing shoulders with someone in the doorway as he marches off in huff. 

In wanders one of the strangest looking people Jack has ever seen. He’s a tall lanky brunet, some might say all legs, fairly good looking, yet over all poorly dressed by Jack’s standards. He strolls around aimlessly toward Jack’s desk, brown eyes scrutinizing the room around him. "Hmm, kinda tacky,” he remarks in a surprisingly deep voice. Jack wonders how this random intern or somebody managed to find his way into his office dressed so stupidly to insult his taste. Whoever he is, he's going to leave before Maliwan’s daughter gets here. 

“Some nerve ya got,” Jack replies to his insult. 

“Thank you,” the man hums. He now stands a few feet away from him.

“Alright, kiddo. You’re goddamn hilarious, a real laugh riot. Now, I don’t know who you are or what department you came from, but since you’re apparently here for the explicit purpose of insulting me I suggest you go back there before I send you out in a body bag. Sound good?” Jack sneers.

“Oh, my apologies, maybe I should have introduced myself sooner,” the man says, extending a metal hand. “Rhys, Rhys Maliwan, and you must be  _ The _ Handsome Jack. I hope you don’t treat all of your appointments so rudely.”

“No, only the late ones,” Jack replies bitterly.

He doesn’t know what to think. The guy walks in, insults him, and then tells him that he is the one being rude? As Jack shakes his hand he forgets to hide the surprise on his face. This is certainly not what he was expecting, in that Rhys is not at all a gorgeous young woman in any way shape or form. So this was what Blake was trying to tell him? He thought he was just going to say “she” was ugly or something. Now he has to decide whether or not to abandon his plan. 

“What’s the matter?” Rhys interrupts his thoughts. “Never seen a cybernetic arm before?” 

“No. I just… I imagined you differently.”

“Oh, yeah? How so?” Rhys asks, adjusting his orange and blue triangle patterned tie. 

“Actually, they told me you were a woman.”

“Well, that tends to be the problem with Hyperion doesn’t it? Disorganization I mean,” Rhys replies, crossing his legs dismissively in the chair across from Jack. Jack could just strangle him.

“Well clearly you’re your mother’s son. She used to jab at me like that sometimes, and… and such.”

“Listen,” Rhys tells him, leaning forward. “You don’t have to play nice for me. I know how you and my mother are, and I know you hate each other, so why don’t you treat me like an adult?” 

The whole situation intrigues Jack. Very few people have ever spoken to him like Rhys is. He could have put up with a spoiled rich girl, but Rhys is something entirely different. Jack’s brain tells him that he doesn’t want to seduce Rhys, that Rhys isn’t attractive, that he just wants to put him in his place, and that is why he is going to follow through with his plan no matter what. 

“Alright, you want me to treat you like an adult? Fine. I will. I want to talk on neutral ground though, so to speak. Meet me for coffee tomorrow, eight o'clock. This isn’t an offer by the way, I’m telling you to do it,” he slides a note with an address across the desk. Rhys pockets the note. 

“Why, Mr. Lawrence, if I didn’t know any better I would think you were asking me on a date.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rhys. You aren’t worth my time… Even if you were a woman,” Jack laughs, leading Rhys to the door. He could tell by his frown that Rhys was slightly crestfallen.. “I just need a little more time to prepare is all. Anyway, see ya, sweetheart.” He closes the door before Rhys can say anything else.   


* * *

  
Rhys can’t wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day, much to the confusion of his assistant Vaughn. His first mission had been nothing but a success by his standards. 

"So how'd the meeting go, Mr. Active CEO?" Vaughn teases.  
"Great, man. No problems at all," Rhys replies, not even bothering to look up from his computer. 

"So who did you meet?"  
"Oh uh, that guy from Hyperion. What's his name?" Rhys chews the end of a pen absentmindedly, feigning ignorance.  
"Handsome Jack?"  
"Yeah, that's it."  
"You talked to _The_ Handsome Jack?"   
"Yes."  
"On your first meeting?"  
"Yes."  
"And he didn't like, kill you for looking at him wrong or something?”  
"Apparently not," Rhys answers, finally looking at Vaughn. 

"Well I hope you weren't as much of a smart ass as you're being right now." 

Any other boss would have at least fired Vaughn after that remark, but they had practically grown up together.

"Hey Vaughn, did you know it's rumored that Jack has personally killed 8 assistants?"  
"Well, technically we can only count 6 of them. We can't prove that the ones who got jettisoned out of that plane didn't survive.”  
"The point is, maybe I need to take some pages from his playbook," Rhys jokes, returning his gaze to his computer.  
"Oh, you wouldn't do that and you know it," Vaughn replies. Rhys can see him out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall playing some kind of game on his watch.  
"Don't be so sure."  
Vaughn knows that he has been seen. He clicks one last button on his watch before shoving the device frantically into his pocket. 

"So uh, what's the deal with our jobs?" He stutteres. "Do we work for Hyperion now? Is everything we hold dear going to perish in fire? Hostile takeover? Yes? No?"   
"He didn't seem that interested in talking business actually. We're meeting again tomorrow," Rhys answers bluntly.  
"Really why not?”  
"I don't know, he said something like he wasn't prepared for me."  
"Wasn't prepared for you? Like how?"  
"I don't know," Rhys lies, not wishing to explain the debacle with Jack thinking he was a woman.   
"So I guess it's back to the office tomorrow for you."   
"Actually we're going for coffee tomorrow."  
"Oh really?" Vaughn laughs, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "Rhys, only you could meet with an enemy and then end up going on a date with them."  
"It isn't a date, it's a reasonable way to discuss things in a public place where he probably won't yell at me."  
"Yeah, whatever you say," Vaughn giggles.   



	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go get coffee. Totally NOT a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad this has had good reception. Stay classy, folks. I'm gonna try to stay more sober.

Once again Jack finds himself waiting for Rhys to show up, only this time he’s drumming his fingers on the round wooden table by the window of a coffee shop. Boredom sets in soon enough. Jack ends up staring out of the window at the traffic while the monotonous buzzing of people around him almost puts him to sleep. He manages to zone out more quickly than usual. He hasn’t gotten much sleep in weeks, especially not the previous night which was consumed by contemplating the consequences of pursuing Rhys despite his better judgement. He nearly falls out of his chair when his phone rings.

"Jesus Christ, Blake. What is it?" He groans, attempting to hide his panic.   
"Where are you? We've been looking for you all morning."  

"Don't get your stripey socks in a twist.  I'm just meeting that kid from Maliwan again." 

Jack could swear he heard the other man laugh. 

"Oh, so are you um, disappointed?" Blake sniggers. 

"Disappointed? Yes. Defeated? No."

"So you're continuing on with that plan then,  _ interesting _ ."

" _ Yes _ and  _ not  _ because of what I know you're thinking, it's because I've never met such a bratty little rich kid in my entire life and I would love nothing more than to make him feel like an idiot."

"So, basically you just want this kid to eat a slice of humble pie?"

"Yes."

"And you’re going to accomplish that by feeding it to him seductively?"

"You know what, Blake? You may not like this plan, but you will. When I have Maliwan in my control,  _ for free.  _ You will.”

"Very good, sir, but right now i’m getting a call from accounting."

"Don't you put me on hold dammit!"

"I do apologize for underestimating you."

"I swear to god, Blake, if you hang up on me I'll-" There’s a click, followed by silence and Blake is gone. It leaves Jack with a vague sense of disappointment. Although Blake was teasing him, at least talking to him killed time. 

It is nearly half past eight when Rhys finally shows up. Jack figures he must have overslept like the spoiled child he is, but really that time was filled by bickering with Vaughn about what he should wear. Rhys argued that Jack wouldn’t notice or care anyway, but he does notice. He even makes a concerted effort to notice since his entire plan involves figuring out what made Rhys tick.

“I gotta ask. What’s with the orange and blue tie fetish?” He asks once Rhys sits down. “I mean, you don’t see me wearing yellow all the time.” 

“Maybe that’s because yellow is an eyesore and you know it.” 

Jack bites his tongue at the insult. In some it disappoints him. He  _ was  _ eventually going for a genuine compliment, but no, Rhys just had to be a sarcastic prick.  _ Backhanded guilt trip compliment it is then.  _

“That’s too bad, pumpkin. I think you’d be gorgeous in Hyperion yellow.” 

Rhys’ hands squeeze tightly together, Jack thrills to find that he had indeed caught him off guard. If Jack got the desired effect, then Rhys currently feels like a guilty, confused, jerk. Maybe he was being sarcastic in calling him beautiful, maybe not. Rhys would have to figure that out on his own.

"Well, I've been told that you have a list of terms, so maybe we should discuss if any merger is going to happen at all before we decide on team uniforms, okay?   
Once again Jack finds himself amused by his wit.While he wants to tell Rhys he is being an insolent bastard, he also admires him for it. Many people are afraid of him, but not Rhys, and Jack wants to know why. One thing is for certain though, they are not going to talk business, they never are, Jack won't allow it. The last thing he needs is Rhys thinking he has any sort of an upper hand in that aspect.

"Slow down there, beautiful. I haven't even had my coffee yet." He jokes.

For once Rhys decides to forego any sarcastic remark he could make for an eye roll.

Soon a woman in a yellow sun dress looms over them with a notepad, almost as if the very mention of coffee had summoned her. 

"What can I get you today?" She asks cheerfully.

"You know me, Nicole. The usual," Jack replies tiredly, resting his head in his hands. 

"And for you?" The lady asked.

"Same thing I guess," Rhys replies hastily.

"Do you always act that way around women?" Jack asks once the lady leaves. 

"I'm not here to pick up girls."

"Of course you aren't. None of them would want you."

Rhys has too many questions to argue about such a pointless remark. "So, even though you apparently can't function for now do you think you could answer a really easy question?" 

"Shoot," Jack replies, giving a halfhearted thumbs up.

"Okay. How did you manage to get to the top so quickly?" 

"Does it matter?" Jack yawns. He doesn't really wish to explain his entire life story on a whim.

"No, no, of course not. You thought I'd be a woman, I thought you'd be older."

"Well, cupcake, it's like this; I could tell you a really long boring ass story, or you could just guess and probably be right."

"Obviously you killed someone, that's Hyperion standard practice."

"I'm not going to say that isn't true, but you gotta understand that we're not as fond of nepotism as Maliwan is. I don't think I need to ask you why you're here."  Even when exhausted Jack could kill with words.

Jack takes a sip of the coffee the woman places in front of him. Rhys suppresses the urge to tell him that he should have waited for it to cool some, but he seems unfazed by it. Rhys takes a sip of his own drink. He reckoned it must have been cool enough.  He is wrong. Fortunately, Jack occupies himself with chattering at the waitress, so he doesn’t notice Rhys' panicked expression when the hot liquid burns the roof of his mouth. 

“Great job, as usual, Nick!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I didn't order the cinnamon roll though.”

“It's on the house, sir.”

Jack takes out his wallet. 

“Hold on a minute.”

“We're having a promotion right now. It's free.”

“I know,” Jack replies, handing her a fifty. “That’s for you, Nicky, buy yourself something nice.”

“Sir, I couldn't-”

“Buy yourself some new earrings, you wear those every time I see you.”

“But my fiance got me these ones.”

“Then get her some.”

“Will do, sir.”

Rhys spots the picture in his wallet before he puts it away. The little girl smiles at him with her freckles and bright cerulean eyes.

“Who’s that?” he asks out of the blue.

“Who?”

“In your wallet.”

“Oh, that's, uh, that's my Angel.”

“Oh,” Rhys replies sheepishly. “I didn't know you had a daughter. She's cute.”

“Yeah, I forget sometimes myself. She's with my wife most of the time. She’ll be twelve next week.”

“Will you see her then?”

“I hope so…”

Rhys doesn't know what to say. 

“Well, that's ex-wives for you,” Jack remarks after an uncomfortable silence. “You're too young to deal with that yet, kiddo.”

After that he says nothing more, other than periodic anecdotes about some old projects and a jerk boss named Tassiter, which is perfectly fine to Rhys. He’d heard rumors of Jack’s temper and godlike stature, and is just dumbfounded to witness his brief moment of mortality. Rhys waits patiently for each little snippet.

After a long while Jack stands up, and clears his throat. "Well, Rhysie, it's been real, but I got things to do ya know." 

"I gotta admit," Rhys replies mirroring Jack's actions, "Hyperion may be a chaotic, disorganized hellhole, but the CEO can pick a good cup of coffee."

Jack laughs, not in a sarcastic or obnoxious way, like when he makes fun of Rhys. It’s lighter, more sincere, and surprisingly pleasant.

"Do my ears deceive me, or was that a compliment? Is it cause I said you were beautiful?" Jack asks.

"I, um-" 

"Don't worry. I'm just joking with you. See you round, sweetheart."   

"Wait. Jack?" Without thinking, Rhys grabs him by the shoulder as he walks away. A quick hand snatches his wrist and yanks him forward to where its owner can see him. 

"Goddamnit, kiddo! You can't just grab people like that. Somebody's gonna break your other arm and you can't say I didn't warn ya." 

To Rhys' surprise, Jack sounds more startled than angry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just..." Rhys trips over his words like a crack in the sidewalk  

“What?”

“Oh, um. I just- we didn’t even talk about what we were supposed to.”

“What’s that?”

Rhys has no idea how Jack couldn’t know what he’s talking about. 

“You know, how you hate my mom and want to take everything she’s ever worked for.”

“Well that’s what tomorrow is for isn’t it?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Whaddya say? Same time?”

“I-” 

“See ya then, kiddo.”

He leaves Rhys standing there on the sidewalk. This was not the Jack he had always heard about, this Jack was  _ human _ . He remembered the server’s name, he had horrible bosses, a daughter, an ex-wife, and dark circles under his eyes.  _ Those shadows under his eyes. _ Was that what Jack's job had done to him? Rhys could very well be looking at his future.

* * *

**** To call Vaughn perplexed by Rhys’ behavior when he returns would be an understatement. After a half hour of watching him from across the room he can’t hold his tongue any longer. 

“Rhys, what happened?”

“Happened? What do you mean?” Rhys asks with a lackluster laugh.

“Dude, ever since you got here you’ve done nothing but spin around in a swivel chair and stare at the ceiling. Something definitely happened.” 

For a while Rhys says nothing. "Vaughn, do you think this job has changed me?"

"No? What brought that up?"

"So I got coffee with Jack today..."

"And he was a complete jerk?" Vaughn guesses, tapping a stack of papers on the corner of Rhys' desk.

"No, he wasn't... I was... I guess I was just so caught up in the whole CEO thing I forgot... I forgot he was a person."

"So you had sass on high today, that's not  _ terrible _ ."

Rhys turns the chair to face away from his assistant.

"No, it wasn't just that. You had to have seen him. There's these  _ shadows  _ around his eyes _...  _ It looks like he smudged ink on his face or something."  He watches his reflection trace the area under his own eyes with his fingertips in the window. "I'm like the last thing he needs to put up with."

"Rhys, Jack has ruined people's lives for much less. Insulting him and surviving is kind of a victory." 

"That's not what I'm worried about though. He just looked so  _ tired.  _ Am I going to be that way?"

"Your mom's pretty sick, man, but she isn't terminally ill. This'll all be over in a month or two."

"But it won't always!" Rhys snapped. He rotates the chair to face Vaughn yet again. "Then what'll I do? Just say, 'hey mom you know all those goals you had for me? Fuck em.' I'm not cut out for this, Vaughn. Mom would be pissed if she knew where I was today,  _ pissed. _ ” 

"Not cut out? Not cut out for this? Rhys you've been training your whole life for this. You didn't just put up with Jack, you got him to  _ like  _ you," Vaughn replies. "And think of it this way, you still have a pretty long time to figure things out."

"Yeah, you're probably right. But Jack doesn't like me."

"So I'm guessing you talked about some real serious business today. You're obviously stressed out," Vaughn remarks, stapling his pile of perfectly stacked paper.

"No, not at all."

"So what  _ did  _ you talk about?"

"Oh, you know. Just... things."

"Wow, I was just joking yesterday about it being a date  and stuff. How did  _ you _ make  _ Jack _ engage in small talk?." 

"Actually, I didn't make him do anything. He was the one who didn't want to talk about the merger, said he couldn't function without coffee." 

"Oh my god it was totally a date."

Rhys doesn’t bother to argue this time. The cute nicknames, and the compliments would only give Vaughn more ammunition with which to defend his preposterous notion. 

"Rhys! Phone for you," a voice calls from the adjacent room. Reluctantly, Rhys makes his way to it.

"Thanks, Yvette," he sighs, taking the phone from her. 

"Hello? This is Rhys Maliwan, with whom am I speaking?"

"Hey,  _ sweetheart _ .” Calling Rhys by that nickname makes Jack want to vomit. “Tell your secretary I said she sounds beautiful. So anyway I'm calling cause I gotta tell you that tomorrow morning might not be so good after all."

By then Vaughn has crept into the room. "Is it him?" He mouths silently.

Rhys responds with a slow nod, glaring daggers at his assistant. 

"I knew it," Vaughn exclaims silently, raising a victorious fist.

"Oh, okay. No problem," Rhys finally responds to Jack after watching Vaughn's little pantomime victory celebration.

"Blake tells me I have to write a speech for some sort of formal event we're having. He's pretty pissed that I disappeared all morning."

"Okay..."

“How about lunch tomorrow?”

Rhys takes a second to think it over.

“Hello? Still there?”

“Yeah, I'll go, I guess.”

“Good. I'll pick you up at twelve.”

Rhys hangs up soon after Jack, wondering what exactly he has just agreed to.

“So,” Vaughn laughs. “What did he say?”

“What was that about?" Yvette asks. "And why is he so happy about it?" she continues, pointing toward Vaughn.

Before Rhys can even think of what to say Vaughn  answers eagerly.

"Well you probably figured this out when you were talking to him, but that was Handsome Jack, aka Rhys' boyfriend. Probably called to ask him on a date or something."

"Vaughn! For the last time-" 

"Hey, before you get mad at me you gotta tell me if I'm right."

“He wants me to go to lunch tomorrow.”

“You're going to tell me you don't think he's even the slightest bit interested in you?"

"Yep."

"Ya see?! Do you see?! Have you ever in your life seen someone in this much denial?" Vaughn asks Yvette, gesturing dramatically at Rhys with something akin to a more forceful form of jazz hands. 

"The only thing I see is an overly enthusiastic assistant who still hasn't finished his appraisal, which I should add, is due in two hours," she replies calmly.

"Aw, come on, Yvette. You can't be serious. Give me a little time extension?" Vaughn pleas. 

She raises an eyebrow. "Do I  _ look  _ like I'm joking," she snaps, adjusting her glasses just so.

"So, Rhys, I just remembered I have a thing to do so not that I wouldn't love to keep talking about this, but-"

"One hour."

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" Vaughn sprints off, presumably to wherever his computer is.

"You always know what to say, Yvette," Rhys remarks. Her smile acknowledges the compliment. Yvette's quick thinking and supervision won her the position of head secretary in the first place. Everyone knew about her talent, especially Rhys' mother, yet her skills never ceased to be remarkable.

"Is what Vaughn said true?" she asks, returning her gaze to the book in her lap.

"What? No," Rhys answers dismissively.

"So when he said 'let me talk to Rhysie' that isn't like some cute nickname he has for you right?"

"No, he gives nicknames to everybody," Rhys replies quietly. The slight blush on his face tells Yvette that he lied.

"Rhys, if it is true I'm not going to say I understand, but I'm going to tell you what I know. Jack is a deceiver, it's what he does." 

"I know, I know. That's why there is absolutely  _ nothing  _ between us," he assures her. "But if the words of a liar mean anything to you, I'm supposed to tell you that you sound beautiful."

Yvette gives him a suspicious look over her glasses.

“Please don't tell mom.”

“Ugh, fine. But if anything happens to you…”

“Yeah, I know. You're starting to sound like her.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys brushes elbows with the common man and has mixed feelings about it. AKA: Jack makes Rhys take the metro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys is a klutz lol.

True to his word, Jack appears in the lobby at about noon. Once again he waits a few minutes for Rhys to meet him, before they walk out the door. 

“So where's the car?” Rhys asks.

“Car? I took the metro.”

Jack bewilders Rhys more and more, going to pedestrian coffee shops, taking the train.

“Why?”

“Gotta get my exercise in somehow. Plus, the winter from hell is over, so we might as well get out, yeah?”

“Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise.”

They reach the steps of the metro stop.

Rhys has passed that staircase everyday for almost his entire life, yet he has never taken the train once. 

Jack chuckles at the childlike wonder on Rhys' face when he sees the extra long escalator.

“You gotta pass or do you need a card?” Jack asks when they arrive at the mouth of the underground cavern.

“A what?”

“I guess that's a yes.”

Jack drags him over to a confusing looking box with numbers, screens, and maps Rhys can't decipher. He swipes his credit card and pushes some buttons until the machine spits out a small paper card. He hands to Rhys. 

“Don't lose it, okay?”

After they go through the turnstile, which Rhys learns requires the ticket he just attained, they arrive at the top of another escalator. It takes them down to what Rhys doesn't know is the platform. Jack stops to look at another convoluted map on a nearby post.

“Good, we don't have to change lines.” 

Those words have no meaning to Rhys. He looks to Jack for a social cue. The man just stands there with his arms folded.

“So where's the train?”

“We gotta wait for it.”

“Oh.”

Five minutes pass. The lights on the floor turn red for reasons unknown. 

“The train will be arriving shortly, please stand clear of the track,” an automated voice says all too late.

The clamour of the incoming machine had already made Rhys jump out if his skin. Luckily, Jack missed it. Jack runs alongside the cars, trying to find the least populated one, but his efforts are fruitless. Both of them have to stand up for the journey.

Packed against other people like sardines, Rhys wonders what on earth Jack finds advantageous about this mode of travel. The doors close, and Jack realizes that he probably should have told Rhys to hold on to the pole. He gets flung backwards, grabbing onto Jack to prevent hitting the floor.

“Why, Rhys, I didn't know you cared.”

He just glares at Jack in return, secretly hoping that no one who works for him happens to be in that train car.

The rest of the fifteen minute trip consists of Rhys asking if every single stop is theirs, and why, and how, and where anyone would want to take the metro, to which Jack replies that they don't want to. Eventually, Jack ignores questions, so he resorts to watching the lights zoom by in the tunnel outside. 

Finally, a voice announces that they have arrived at noise that could not be interpreted as the name.of a place by the world's top linguists. Jack confirms that it is the correct stop.

Rhys squints in the daylight when the escalator returns them to the surface. He recognizes the residential district around him. Many of his better paid employees have apartments here. There's a park here that's famous for it's flowering trees. Sure enough they pass it. The pink blossoms are just starting to bloom.

“We gotta cross the street here,” Jack tells him.

He gets a little anxious when he sees another staircase on the other side.

Thankfully, that one does not lead to a big dim cave that smells of motor oil and cigarettes. Once his eyes adjust again he realizes that they are in a tiled hallway, which seems to be air conditioned. Shops of every sort line the “streets.” Rhys notices a dentist, a tailor, a pharmacy, and even a convenience store, among others. 

“It's like a second city down here.”

“Yep, saves room for more apartments up top. Most buildings have an elevator straight down to here,” Jack explains.

_ How does he know about this stuff? _

“Anyway, I know a place down here. Best sandwiches you'll ever have!”

Jack opens the door for him at the deli he speaks of. 

The inside seems to be going for a rustic wooden look. It isn't especially convincing, although the glass ceiling is a nice touch. Looking up at it, Rhys figures out that they are under a fountain in the middle of the park. The menu hangs behind the counter on a huge chalkboard. Rhys would probably have someone fetch him lunch from a place like this, but he wouldn't set foot in it himself. At least the man behind the counter looks friendly. 

Jack orders two turkey specials and a small vanilla milkshake. He asks Rhys if he wants one. Rhys says no. Jack orders him one anyway because he doesn't want him to “make the biggest mistake of his life.” Rhys starts to think that agreeing to go on this outing is pretty far up on the list. 

Jack drags him to the counter by the window to wait for the food. Once they sit down, Rhys finally gathers the courage to ask. 

“So,  why do you do all this stuff?”

“What's that?”

“You're a man with more money than god and you take the train to the residential district to eat a sandwich underground.”

“Well, soooorry, Mr. silver spoon. We can't all be born into money.”

“But why do you still do it?”

“The same reason you don't, it's what I've always done.”

Rhys ends up glad Jack ordered that milkshake. It gives him an excuse to be silent. Plus, there's a cookie around the straw.

“So,” Jack says, crumbling up the paper that  previously wrapped his sandwich. "I understand you have a lot of questions and apprehensions about Hyperion- cause you're kind of a jerk about it every time I talk to you." 

"That's true, but-"

"Good, cause I've decided that I want you to go to this thing with me. We're have a 50th anniversary event Friday night. I figure you'll get to see Hyperion at it's best, you know? Wanna go?"

"I-" Rhys finds himself suddenly bombarded with a decision.

"So are you in or not?" 

He has no answer yet, but at least Jack is actually asking if he wants to go, rather than spontaneously proclaiming that it was going to happen, regardless of if Rhys wanted it to. 

“Sure, I'll go, but I'm going to judge your employees.”

“I know, you're a stick in the mud. You get it from your, mom. By the way, don't wear that hideous get up you usually wear. Wear something like, like- fuck it, I'll send you something, just be ready at eight. Anyway, you wanna check out the park?”

“Is there time?”

“Yeah, we got a little.”

Jack absentmindedly grasps his hand on the way to the stairs. Rhys tries to think of a protest, but it comes out as, “um.”

Jack just looks at him, seemingly ignorant of his offense.

Rhys resigns to it, thinking Jack will correct himself after a while. He keeps Rhys' hand prisoner all the way to Maliwan offices, incase someone actually important sees. Rhys will have to leave that part out when he talks to Vaughn. They still didn't talk about the merger.  _ Dammit. _

* * *

 

"Hey, Blake! Guess what I did," Jack exclaims shortly after entering the office.

"If the answer is Maliwan's son, then I fear I have once again seriously underestimated you and I am sorry."

Jack laughs a bit more than he should, more of a nervous laughter than anything. Blake may have been joking, but it makes a thought cross Jack's mind that he hadn't considered before, the idea that he might actually have to sleep with Rhys. He could only hope that Rhys is as much of a prude as he comes off as. 

"You crack me up, but no," he finally answers. "I invited him to that thing Friday."

Blake has worked with Jack long enough to know what “that thing” is referring to. He isn’t sure; however, that Jack is entirely aware of what it is. 

“Well did he accept?”

“Accept? That kid is  _ clamouring  _ to spend time with me. You oughta see him. He gets all flushed and sweaty, like stuttering and shit." 

Blake would have left the topic there if not for the way Jack sits forward with his head in his hands. His gaze falls somewhere of little importance over Blake's left shoulder, and pieces of a smile peek out where Jack's mouth isn't covered up by his long fingers. 

"So you mentioned what Friday night is to him, right?"

"Yeah of course," Jack answers, still not snapping out of his daydream. 

"So it doesn't worry you how some employees might react to you bringing Mailwan's own flesh to celebrate Hyperion's 50th anniversary? You aren't concerned that they might drive him away permanently? Or harm him?" 

"He can handle himself. He's braver than you think," Jack hums.

"You're sure?"

"Well he ain't afraid of me, that's... That's a start."

"But you're still going to kill him right?"

"Who?"

"Rhys!" Blake raises his voice slightly to snap Jack out of his daze. "You seem fond of him. I'm just making sure you don't get too attached to him."

"Me? Attached? To Rhysie? Don't be ridiculous. I'm Handsome Jack, I don't need Rhys."

Blake knew that wasn't true, he has never seen Jack be so complimentary towards anyone. Like every other employee, Blake is aware that it is like a sign of respect, given his adoration for condescending nicknames, for Jack to call a person by their actual name which he had also done for Rhys.

"You  _ did  _ say he was a brat. Did you not?" he asserts. 

_ " _ Well, that's why I like when his face goes all red. Makes me think how pretty it'd be to strangle him."

"So you don't like him?"

"Of course not!" Jack cackles.

“So the nicknames?”

“Make me sick to my stomach. Do you know what it's like to hear my own voice say that shit? Rhys may be brave, but he’s like any chick, sweet talk ‘em an they’re yours.”

Blake chuckles softly. Seeing the sinister smirk on Jack's face, he has to laugh at himself. What a fool he had been to think Jack could ever truly care about someone. It was downright absurd. 

"Glad to see you haven't lost focus, sir. I never doubted you. Though I must ask, what exactly did you call me here for?" 

"Oh yeah, I was getting to that! So apparently Rhys still needs his mom to dress him.”

"You want me to do some shopping?”

"You know me too well," Jack laughs. 

"Any particular look in mind?"

"Obviously like a hot piece of ass. Can't have some idiots thinking I've lowered the bar, at least not to Rhys' level." He jokes.

"I'm on it," Blake replies, heading for the door. 

"Oh and, Blake?"

"Yes?" He freezes in the doorframe.

"Don't skip on the yellow."


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vasquez publicly accuses Rhys of being a prostitute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Asoledad, your comments keep me going.

“A black tie event?!” Vaughn's volume forces Rhys to hold his phone away from his ear. “Dude, he is literally using you as an escort.”

“I'm sure he has his reasons.”

“Wait. Did he just say 'go' or 'go with'?"

"Vaughn..." Rhys sighs in exasperation.

"Come on, which was it?" Vaughn coaxes.

*Ugh fine," Rhys groans, "he said go with. Are you happy?"

"Yes? I don't know. Wait. What are you going to wear?”

“I don't know?”

“Eight o'clock is in like an hour. Are you kidding me?”

“He said he'd send something over.”

“Showing you off is he?”

“Vaughn!”

There's a knock at the door.

“I gotta go, Vaughn. It just got here.”

“Have fun,” Vaughn jokes.

Rhys brings the golden boxed package to his bedroom. He opens it carefully, taking a note off of the top.

Jack's brief mention of Blake in their phone conversation made it sound to Rhys as though Blake was some sort of assistant or secretary, but as he reads the letter and examines the clothes inside he discovers how wrong he was. 

 

_ Mr. Rhys Maliwan,  _

_ I was ordered to find suitable attire for you to wear tonight. While I'm sure you look fine I have been told otherwise. Do wear this though. It will look lovely if my memory is correct and your eyes are brown.  _

_ Regards, _

_ Jeffrey Blake, SVP The Hyperion Corporation _

 

Rhys has a laugh  at the full official signature on the bottom, wondering why Blake would bother to write it on such an informal note. Also, what a strange job he had. How exactly did one become senior vice president and still act so much like a PA? Rhys imagines Blake's business cards must be very long. 

He casts the piece of Hyperion stationary aside to admire his new outfit in the mirror. He runs his fingers over the silky smooth, gold colored tie around his neck. The only patch of roughness to be found is the faint imprint of a hexagonal pattern which also tessellates on the matching set of shiny black suspenders. He throws on the jacket and goes to answer another knock at the door.

"See? I told you you'd look good in yellow. Right as usual," 

There Jack stands leaning in the doorway, mismatched eyes scanning Rhys from top to bottom. He can feel Jack's gaze paused on his legs.

"Jee, thanks," Rhys replies. "I'm really glad you found out where I live to tell me that. By the way, how the hell did you find me!?" 

"Easy, I just made a little call to your assistant whatshisname. Vince? Victor?"

"Vaughn?"

"Yeah, that's it. You look freaked out. Your mom isn't home, is she?”

“You do realize I’m an adult right? I haven’t lived with my parents in like ten years.”

Jack chuckles at his response.  He leans slightly to the left, revealing the yellow lining of his black vest and overcoat. The inside of the black garment matches the pattern of Rhys’ tie. He stares down at his feet. His smile doesn't fade, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes flat lines.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence Jack reinvigorates his anger , "I believe you were in the middle of bitching at me."

"Hell yes I was! Why are you even here?" As usual Rhys' feistiness perks Jack up.

"To pick you up, duh." 

"What is this, prom?"

"Why do you ask, Rhysie? Were you expecting a corsage?" 

Rhys groans. "I mean why are  _ you _ picking me up? Isn't that beneath you, or whatever?"

"Of course it is!" Jack replies.

Rhys could have been angry and maybe even a little hurt, but it was idiotic to expect a humble or complementary response to begin with.

"But it's kinda my fault anyway. I may have left out a few little details during our chat yesterday."

"Details?" Rhys folds his arms.

"Let me ask you something. Would you agree that at least for now our companies are enemies?" Jack asks, ushering Rhys out the door.

"I do."

"Then you would also agree that naturally a shit ton of my people would love to wring your pretty neck, so there's no way I could leave you alone with a driver?”

“That makes sense, I suppose, but do you also mean to say that I'm going to be in a room full of people that hate, or possibly want to kill me?"

"Kill you, take off your arm and beat you with it like a piñata, untie your shoes while you aren't looking, it varies really.  It's okay, Rhysie. I'll make sure nothing happens to ya, but I can't do it all myself. That means no talking shit like you do, and no telling anyone your last name. They don’t know your face so that’s the only way they’ll know to hate you. Got it?"

"Yeah." 

Rhys stays silent the whole way to the party after that. He tries to keep his composure, which he does rather well. The only indication he gives Jack that he is bursting at the seams is constantly wringing his hands. Even when they are standing in front of the double doors of the ballroom his nerves do not calm one bit. 

"Don't tell any of these bastards about yourself, alright?" Jack reminds him. The sudden sound of his voice causes Rhys to jump. "God, you've been so damn fidgety. You're acting like you really gotta use the bathroom or something."

"Well excuse me for being a bit nervous about going to an event with hundreds of people who want me dead."

"You're still freaking out about that? I already told you I'd make sure nothing happens."

Yvette’s words echo in Rhys’ head. He has no idea how he could take any stock in the words of a deceiver. 

"How are you even going to do that though?" he whines.  

"Like this."

An arm snakes around Rhys' waist making him blush just the slightest bit. His skin burns where Jack's hand rests on his hip bone. 

"Jack, I don't see how this is going to-"

"Stand up straight, pumpkin. Chin up, shoulders back."

Without thinking, Rhys does as he is told. Before he knows it he is being scrutinized by a whole room of people, a side effect of walking in with Jack's arm around him. He can't tell if the crowd has gone completely silent or not, the only thing he can hear is the blood rushing in his head. Just as when he held his hand Rhys thought Jack would have moved away eventually, yet he doesn't budge. As Jack does, Rhys puts on his best fake smile for the tables and tables of faceless businessmen. The room has indeed become quiet save for a few hushed murmurs. 

Finally, Jack addresses the crowd. "What's happening, Hyperion? How y'all doin?" The crowd cheers in response. "Good! You guys know what we're here for. Fifty years ago today Hyperion set out to make this city, and the world a better place, a safer place, and we ain't stopping anytime soon!" This ushers more applause from crowd. "Food and drinks are free, so have a good time! But not too good, because I know some of you have to work tomorrow and I don't pay you to sit around and bitch about your hangover. Okay?" The room erupts in what sounds like a laugh track from a sitcom. "It wasn't a joke!" Jack shouts over the din. 

A great weight is lifted from Rhys once everyone's attention turns away. His heart beat finally begins to slow down as Jack leads him between rows and rows of round, white and black table clothed tables. Some people still stare at him, but quickly refrain whenever Jack seems to notice. The thumb of the hand on Rhys' hip rubs reassuring circles on his lower back. Rhys shivers. The hair on his neck stands on end when he feels hot breath on his ear. 

"You did a good job, sweetheart," Jack whispers. Eventually they are seated at a large table front and center. A tall blond man stands up and pulls out Rhys' chair for him. He reaches out for a handshake which Rhys politely returns.

"Jeffrey Blake. Charmed," the man introduces himself. 

"Oh yeah!" Jack asserts himself into the meeting. "Rhys, Blake. Blake, Rhys.”

"Well if it isn’t the stylist himself, Thanks," Rhys laughs. 

"It suits you," Blake replies. 

"That's Blake. Couldn't get along without him," Jack remarks.

"I don't suppose you could," he agrees. 

Rhys is glad he gets to sit beside him. Although he looks as intimidating as Jack he seems kind enough, at least Jack appears to trust him a lot. For the first time Rhys is calm enough to enjoy the atmosphere. The soft lighting of the crystal chandelier and city light pouring in from the windows sooths him. The calm melodies of the string ensemble in the corner are helpful as well. He can indulge in the ambiance all he wants since Jack does most of the talking for him. Rhys has been to hundreds of similar events with his mother, but will remember none as vividly as this. For once he didn’t have to worry about talking to anyone, or introducing himself to people. He didn’t have to be cautious of being assassinated by a crony of a senior member of the Maliwan board of trustees. Jack’s hand on his knee under the table tells him that nothing will happen to him. It only moves away for Jack to make gestures for emphasis, after which it promptly returns.

As Rhys listens to him speaking he begins to notice Jack's commendable mastery of the dinner conversation. If there is one skill Rhys wants to take away from what he assumes will be his short time with Jack, it is being able to captivate people the way Jack did. No one at the table could take their eyes off of him, no one seems to acknowledge Rhys' existence for the longest time. His eyes drift lazily towards the the red flowers that form the centerpiece.

Finally, someone notices him. Rhys finds himself unintentionally locking eyes with a raven haired man with a thick beard across the table.

The man cocks his head to the side like a predator inspecting its prey. Soon the circumstantial eye contact turns into a full on stare down. Rhys finally blinks when a shiny glint flashes in his eye from the table top. It came from a steak knife that the other man swivels back and forth between his thumb and index finger. His eyes never leave Rhys.  _ He knows. How does he know? _

Rhys squeezes Jack's hand tightly. His fingernails make Jack jerk his hand away, hitting the underside of the table with a hollow thud. He shoots Rhys a cautionary glare out of the corner of his eye. Rhys frantically grasps at Jack's fingers before he can pull his hand out from under the table. He folds all but Jack's index finger and moves it to point toward the knees of the man with the knife. Jack gives him a confused look for just a moment before he understands what Rhys is getting at. The bearded man hasn't looked away from Rhys yet and Jack simply will not stand for someone exposing Rhys this far into the plan, effectively wasting his time. 

"Hey, Vasquez," he remarks, "keep staring and I'll have to start charging by the second." 

"Haha. Good one, sir," the man whose name is apparently Vasquez laughs shallowly.

Rhys is sure that would keep him off his back. He is safe as long as Jack is there, but Jack couldn't always be there. Rhys sees Blake whisper something to him before both stand up.

"Be right back," Jack assures him. Rhys feels the cold empty sensation of Jack's touch leaving him. No sooner than Jack left,  Vasquez moved over to Blake's seat. 

"How's it going, kid? Rhys, is it?"

Rhys crams all of his fear inside of himself to build up to an obvious, lackluster response. 

"Yes that's me."

"Nice to meet ya, Rhys. The name's Hugo Vasquez. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." 

"Oh no, it's fine."

"Well, I'm glad. You know, Rhys, I think I've heard your name somewhere before.

"Really?"

"Yeah, hell if I remember where though. Do you ever meet anyone else named Rhys?"

"No, not really." Rhys smiles politely. His internal voice screams for Jack to come back.

"So where did Jack pick you up? Pandora, Elpis?"

“No.”

“Eden?”

"No, not there."

"Are you a prostitute?"

"Excuse me?" Vasquez's question leaves him flabbergasted.

"Hey, no shame, kid. We all gotta make a living somehow. Jack's hired you folks for things like this before."

"I'm not a prostitute!" Rhys' protest earns him a few sideways glances. He still doesn't know how Vasquez could ask such a question.

"Then how'd you end up with him?" 

"I'm  _ not _ with him. Well, I'm with him, but I'm not  _ with  _ him," Rhys blabbers. Vasquez's tilts his head again, this time in confusion. Rhys decides to rephrase his answer with a lie. 

"Jack and I aren't dating. We met because he wanted to look at my arm. He wants Hyperion to make something like it."

"Could have fooled me. I thought he was going to fire me just for looking at you. Anyway, that arm's a neat little gadget if I do say so myself, a Maliwan product too. You're doing God's work, kid, smuggling tech into enemy territory."

Rhys mentally curses his arm. His sleeve must have rolled up and Vasquez saw the Maliwan emblem. Now he was going to die. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Jack and Blake share his concern. 

"Blake, what the hell did you drag me over here for?" Jack growls.

"Hugo Vasquez, sir," he responds in a concerned whisper.

"He knows, obviously. I didn't get where I am by being a complete moron. I'm just trying to figure out how he knows. He couldn't have heard of him, Rhys has only been a somebody for a week. You don't think he looked in that stupid book of yours, do you?"

"My schedule? It isn't impossible. He tends to sneak around. For all we know he could have been listening in on us."

"That creepy bastard, always morphing around in my peripheral vision with his fake hair. Should never have gotten him out of the mailroom."

"Should we really be leaving Maliwan with him?"

"He's not a full on idiot. I don't think he'll go after Rhys here."

"Perhaps you should give the speech now, and get Rhys out of here."

"Sounds like a winner, Blake."

Back at the table, Vasquez has not let up a bit. 

"You know what, Rhys? Your arm just reminded me where I saw your name. The president of Mailwan's gotta a son named Rhys."

"Wow, what a- what a strange coincidence," Rhys stutters. 

"He might be president soon, I've heard his old lady’s pretty sick."

Rhys tells Vasquez the only truth he can.

"Oh, that's terrible. It must be so frightening to lose a loved one and then have all that responsibility put on you. I couldn't do it. I don't know anything about being a leader."

"Yeah we're all lucky we ain't him. Can you imagine though, if Jack had mistaken you for him? He'd have you killed for sure, then anyone who knew about you and didn't tell him. Maybe keep your entrails as a trophy. It's hard to say for sure."

"I thought that was just a rumor." Rhys had no idea how he could possibly feel safer with Jack than without him.

"Only for the.snitches," Vasquez replies, running his finger along the blade of the knife. " _ Especially  _ from Maliwan."

"W- why from Maliwan?"

"No one is really sure what he has against Maliwan. We all share that rivalry, but Jack  _ hates  _ Maliwan."

"Why?"

"Something to do with his parents. I don't know the details, but I've heard-"  Vasquez is cut off by the deafening ring of a microphone. Everyone's attention turns to the front of the room, much to Rhys’ relief.

"Hey, guys! Jack here, you know, leader of the ages and what not. Is everybody listening? Even Henderson? Alright, great!" The remark earns a collective laugh from the crowd. Rhys imagines it  would have been as funny to him as it was to everyone else if he knew who Henderson was.

"You guys know I'm not the kind of guy to stop a party, but your wonderful vice president thought I should say something, so harass him. If you do still feel the need to file a complaint though, just know that I don't read them." More laughter follows. "But seriously," Jack continues, "Hyperion is old as dirt. Y'know, schmuck reporters ask me all the time if I think our founders would approve of what Hyperion is these days, and when they do I always show them this and tell them what I'm about to tell you.

Jack reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out an old, worn pistol. The scratches and paint chips on it can be seen from even the very back of the room. "This is the first gun Hyperion ever made," he says, raising it in the air. "As you can all see, it's main feature is being a complete piece of crap. So the answer to that stupid question is, I don't care what they would think because Hyperion is about moving toward the future. Hyperion is old as balls. So what? We aren't going anywhere as long as people have the need to defend themselves." 

The crowd cheers, even Rhys finds himself strangely motivated.

"Now, some people will tell you that the best way to stop the enemy.is to just talk to them, but the way I see it you can't do any talking unless you speak the right language. We know that the only language those guys speak is force." Shouts of agreement rise from the crowd. "Glad to see you think so too! That's why we gotta keep working hard, so that, no matter how old, Hyperion will be there!" The crowd roars as Jack saunters away with his hands in his pockets. Rhys' eyes follow him every step of the way until he stops right in front of him. 

"Miss me, dear?" he teases.

"Not too much," Rhys replies. "Vasquez kept me company."

"Did he?" Jack quirks an eyebrow at Vasquez, who rubs the back of his neck nervously in response. "I hope he won't mind if I take you away for just a moment."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Rhys laughs.

"No, of course not," Vasquez asserts with an acerbic grumble. 


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys finds out that he is the flirtatious drunk the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Jack conducts himself like a decent human being

Rhys waits until he and Jack are far from the ballroom before he speaks again.

"How did he find out?" His voice echoes off the walls of empty corridor, along with the clicking of their shoes, and the faint swish of his sleeve when Jack swings his arm back and forth.

"Blake suspects he dug through some papers and saw an ID on you," Jack answers. He grips Rhys' hand like a vice.

"You know, you don't have to hold my hand anymore," Rhys tells him. Jack ignores his remark, pushing a button on the elevator at the end of the hallway. For the first time Rhys thinks he sees a genuine smile on his face. 

"What you lookin at, cupcake?" Jack asks, pulling him into the elevator. 

Rhys hadn’t noticed he was staring. 

"You know, that was some excellent bullshit back there. For a second you made  _ me  _ believe you cared about those idiots.”

"Why thank you, sir.” Jack bows jokingly. Rhys knows he’s a good liar, he just doesn’t know  _ how _ good. 

"Is lying through your teeth all the time difficult?" he asks.

"Nah, making people think I care about them is my specialty." It was a gamble of a comment, but Jack figures if Rhys hasn't connected the dots yet, he never will.

“Do you think I'll get that good?” Rhys asks, still jealous of Jack's oratory abilities.

“Not  _ this _ good. I am a pro after all.”

Rhys laughs. "Well, you didn't fool Vasquez."

"Oh yeah? What did that troll tell you?" Jack asks, opening the door of his office.

"Just the usual things, you kill people, I should be scared blah, blah... Something about my entrails." 

Jack sniggers. Rhys watches him dig around in his pockets. He pulls out a carton of cigarettes to unwind after their close call. For all he knows, Vasquez knows about the plan and everything.

"Wow, no sleep  _ and  _ you smoke," Rhys scoffs.

"Hey, you wanna do my job for me?"

"No."

"Then don't tell me how to relax."

Rhys clicks his tongue sarcastically. "What a terrible role model for Vasquez you are. He really admires you."

"That's his problem," Jack grumbles. He reaches into another pocket lining his coat and pulls out a glass bottle. "Champagne?"

"How did you? Okay, I'll believe the gun and the cigarettes, but your pockets are beginning to border on magic. Has Hyperion truly bested Maliwan with literal pocket dimensions?" Rhys' eyes widen as he watches Jack turn up the bottle.

"What?" Jack asks, giving him an irritated look. "I couldn't fit glasses." 

Rhys snatches it from him. "You're going to kill yourself."

"If I don't, who will?"

"Maybe Vasquez."

"Doubt it."

“He knows some pretty secret stuff about you though.”

“Like what?”

“He was about to tell me what happened to your parents.”

“Likely story, bud.  _ I  _ don't even know what happen to my parents.”

“Something really  _ did  _ happen?”

“All I know is they worked for Hyperion and then they disappeared. I lived with my grandma a bit. That was shitty. Lucky for me she died pretty soon. Mr. Blake took me in after that, I think he was probably about your age then.”

“So he's like your father?”

“More like the person who was designated to give me shelter and food. But yeah, I guess he did a good job of it.

Jack takes a drag from his cigarette, and Rhys a sip of champagne.

“So how was the party, cupcake? Pretty fancy, huh. Better than sandwiches and commuting with the peons?”

“I could have done without the attempt on my life, but other than that, pretty good.” 

“Yeah, that's the last time I let department chairs sit at the grownups’ table. 

Jack finds himself sincerely smiling at Rhys’ laughter. It's a bit unnerving.

“You know…” Rhys says, leaning against the desk, across from the big chair Jack lazily slouches in, “I didn't really get to talk to you much today… Maybe we should go grab dinner sometime, something more one on one.”

“Damn, kiddo. I wouldn't guess that you handle liquor well, but that was just one sip of champagne. Now you’re asking me on a date?”

“I’m not drunk! And it's not a date!”

“You know what, kid? You got guts, I'll go.”

A wave of relief washes over Rhys. Jack normally looks intimidating, but in the chair he seems like the demon king on his throne. Rhys won't say the alcohol didn't help. He still has another question that he can’t believe he’s going to ask. He takes another gulp of champagne just in case. Jack watches with awe.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Why not?”

“Do you ever wish things could be like they used to?”

Jack says nothing.

“I mean do you ever wish you would have just stayed an engineer?” 

Jack actually has to think. He’s never really considered the question before. “I guess,” he answers. “Sure, it’d be nice to have a normal job, get a house somewhere nice, have somebody to come home to. But that’s just what you sign up for. No takebacks and such.” 

“I didn’t sign up for anything,” Rhys remarks acrimoniously.

“Really? Not a fan of being the boss?”

“No. I like it, but it's just- It's kind of, well, stressful… “

Rhys takes another drink as Jack eyes him confusedly. Why is Rhys confiding in him? He hasn't really been trying to come off as super trustworthy or anything.

“Yeah, that sucks. Would have thought your mom had the decency to let you ruin your own life.”

“Does it have to be ruined though? Why can’t you still get all those things you were talking about?”

“Getting ‘em ain’t the problem, it’s keeping ‘em that’s the issue.”

“Keeping them?”

“I’m a very rich man, Rhys. Friends and girlfriends come easily, but they go even easier. Especially after they get what they  _ really  _ want.”

Jack exhales sharply. Rhys watches a cloud of smoke rise over the back of the chair. It swirls around turbulently. For the longest time neither says anything. Both are.equally amazed by how candid Jack is being. Jack never thought that he would say something like that to anyone, but something about Rhys’ naïve face makes it okay. It's nice for a change, to have someone he can talk to without feeling threatened. Jack flinches when a hand lands firmly on his shoulder. No one ever touches him, not without asking or apologizing.

“Here,” Rhys says, waving the half empty champagne bottle in his face. “I think you need this more than I do.”

The drunk giggle he makes at his own joke leaves Jack in a daze. 

Rhys laughs again. 

“I could just put you out of your misery. Then Mom would throw me a parade for a whole month.” He stumbles forward to where Jack can see him, flashing a drunk grin. He looks a mess in his disheveled clothes, swaying back and forth with his shoes off, revealing his wildly patterned socks. His cheeks flush slightly as Jack assesses him.

Jack figures Rhys must have decided to get more comfortable at some point when he turned around. Rhys shuffles his feet nervously under Jack's gaze. After the long silence of scrutinizing Rhys, a sound escapes Jack's lips. To his relief, it isn't another sappy detail about himself, or another equally humanizing sentiment, but an unexpected laugh. 

Jack laughs all the time. He laughed when those employees got tossed out of the aircraft, he laughed when Vasquez was getting hair implants, but this laughter came from a different place, a place deep inside of him that he thought he'd lost connection with long ago, a place where a man keeps the kind of laughter that makes babies smile and old ladies blush. The sound echoes in every corner of the room, reverberating in his lungs. 

“Wha’sfunny?” Rhys' words slur together.

“You acting like you still have a shred of dignity. What are you trying to do, maintain professionalism? I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't keep you around to talk business with, but your drunk ass is still stumbling around like you got something to prove.”

“M’not drunk,” Rhys replies, taking another drink of champagne.

“Uh huh, walk over here then. How bout it? Just a few steps, not much.”

With the assistance of Jack's foot Rhys trips forward, landing in such a way that he headbutts Jack square in the chest.

“Not drunk, eh?” Jack wheezes, trying his hardest to sound like he hasn't just had the wind knocked out of him.

“Mkay, maybe a little,” Rhys admits.

After the world comes into focus it takes only a moment for Rhys' cheeks to turn pink. Once everything unblurs and his ears stop ringing he realizes he is essentially straddling Jack's lap, his chin nestled on his broad chest. Blue and green eyes lock with his for just a moment. Rhys tries to scramble to his feet in a panic, until he notices Jack's hand pressing on his back, as if advising against getting up. Sighing loudly, he lets his body go limp.

“Yeah, I remember my first drink,” Jack jokes like nothing happened.

“I had some wine at my cousin's wedding once.”

“And you're twentyseven?”

“M’not use’t drinking, with my mom always breathin’ down m’neck.”

“Why does she have such a big stick up her ass anyway?”

“Not til after dad died. Wants me to hava good image or somethin, can’t be drinking. Nope.”

“Has she always been pretentious though, with the whole form meets function artsy fartsy bullshit?”

“Don't get me started,” Rhys groans. He contemplates getting up again, but is much too dizzy and much too comfortable to do so. He can barely keep his eyes open listening to Jack's heart beat, which must be rare since legend says he does not have one. The deep, resounding hum in his chest that accompanies every word he speaks is like music. 

“What's that other slogan y'all have?” Jack asks, snapping his fingers in rapid succession. “If it's not elemental…”

“It’s not a Maliwan.” Rhys asserts instinctively. “Don't ask what that means. I don't know.”

Jack grins. He wonders just how much he can learn about what Rhys  _ really  _ thinks of Maliwan, so he does what he always does when he wants to get a fast reaction from Rhys, he touches him. He begins rubbing rough circles on his back just as he'd done at the party, then proceeds to act like he thinks nothing of it. 

“Why don't you tell me a little bit more about Mommy, kitten?” Jack purrs. “It'll help, if you talk about it.”

“She's the cruelest woman in the universe.  _ Way  _ worse than the ones you were talkinbout.” Rhys already struggles to hide his reaction to Jack's touch. Each time he struck a sensitive spot Rhys would blush or bite at his lip. Sometimes he would try to hide it by burying his face in Jack's shirt. “She wants me to run her stupid company, but wonlet me run m’own life.” 

“So no drinking?”

“No smoking, no staying out past midnight…”

“Well we've just committed all the sins haven't we?”

“Not  _ all  _ of them,” Jack hears Rhys mutter under his breath. His back arches as Jack traces the curve of it with his forefinger.  

“Could you s-stop?” He whines into Jack's shirt.

“Stop what?” Jack feigns ignorance. 

Rhys groans.

“Look at you, pumpkin. Totally shitfaced, all comfy in Handsome Jack’s lap. What would mother say?”

“I don't give a  _ shit _ ,” Rhys spits with more clarity than anything he's said in a while.

A cheshire grin spreads across Jack's face. He hadn't thought of it that way before. What would make her angrier than her worst enemy corrupting her precious Rhysie? Maybe sleeping with him wouldn't be as bad as he feared. Rhys whimpers when Jack presses down on the small of his back.

“If only she could see you, sweetheart. All drunk and needy,” Jack sniggers. He cups Rhys' chin in his hand, forcing him to let Jack see his face. His brown eyes exude lasciviousness.

“She doesn't own me,” Rhys growls, just as fierce and wicked as the heat in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? And how would y-” 

Jack is stopped short by a rough, sloppy kiss .

“Wow, kiddo. Where did that come from? Guess that's why they call it liquid courage,” Jack starts to ramble, attempting to compensate for actually having no clue what to say as his brain experiences a sort of stack overflow.

“You know there  _ is  _ one thing I agree with my mother about.”

“What's that?”

“You talk  _ way too much.” _

_ The _ second kiss shocks Jack's system as much as the first, specifically because he oddly enjoys it. Rhys isn't even a good kisser. He does it just like he does everything else around Jack, like an inexperienced teenager with something to prove. Still, it  makes Jack uncomfortable beyond words.

"Whatcha doin, pumpkin? Is this one of those things you aren't allowed to do? Because I can tell.” 

Rhys’ pouts indignantly.

“Sit up, sweetheart,” Jack commands. He notes that he doesn't abhor giving Rhys pet names as much as before.

Rhys straightens up as he’s told. 

“Let me show you how it's done.” Jack tilts his chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

Rhys  _ melts _ . He rests his hands on Jack's shoulders, tensing up for only a second when Jack's tongue slips into his mouth. Nobody has ever kissed him that way before and Jack knows. 

Jack mentally congratulates himself for being so clever, though it still bothers him that he actually enjoys it. He has experience with fake relationships, but the kiss didn't feel fake at all. He expected it to be completely unemotional, completely detached, yet he can see himself becoming easily addicted to Rhys, and his full unscathed lips, and his long legs wrapped around his waist, and his soft gasps, and  _ goddamn  _ Jack hates himself for thinking about that. He hopes he just enjoys the flavor of champagne and cigarettes that lingers between them; although,  Rhys sitting on the edge of his desk makes convincing himself difficult.

He practically has to pry Rhys off of him.

Rhys just sits there with his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, gazing at him expectantly. Jack can hear his breath coming out in pants. His tie is completely undone, letting his collar hang open and his suspenders droop off of his shoulders. Small strands of his normally gelled hair frame his face. The man looks like he could be in a Hyperion pinup calendar. He pulls Jack  between his legs, which are spread obscenely wide, draped in his discarded jacket. He beckons for Jack to bend over, pulling him by the tie.

“I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together, Handsome.” He manages to snake himself around Jack once more.

“Is that so, pumpkin?”

No response.

“Rhys?”

Jack hears a low rumble coming from Rhys.  _ Great,  _ he fell asleep. Now he'll have to carry him all the way to the car. Maybe it's for the best. He can't think of any epic romances that began with bad drunk sex.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggles of Jack v. Feelings and Rhys v. Hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys is clumsy as all hell in this chapter, but look at him, you can't maneuver on those stilt legs.   
> So happy for the positive reception on this fic.

_ Stupid Rhys _ , falling asleep in the car, making him feel  _ feelings _ . Jack puts his thumb on his cheek where Rhys sleepily kissed him goodnight before passing out. Jack stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He should be happy. His plan is progressing well, but he still has a bitter taste in his mouth that agitates the sting of water on his scar. He's forgotten what his skin used to feel like when it was smooth, and it only worsens his frustration at how calm he has been with the whole situation. 

Jack has to battle urges, new urges, urges to just hold Rhys down and  _ ravish  _ him. Rhys would moan and gasp like he did before... Jack shifts around in bed uncomfortably. He clamps his eyes shut, hoping sleep will stop him from thinking such things. He can't sleep though, not just because of how his muscles ache from carrying Rhys up multiple flights of stairs, but also because every time he closes his eyes Rhys is there.  _ Damn is he there,  _ splayed out on Jack's desk, or kneeling between his legs, or pressed against the wall. No matter where he appeared though he would always be moaning for Jack to fuck him, or whimpering and wreathing under him.

Jack’s brain tells him that Rhys isn't a sexy woman, he isn't even an especially attractive man. He shouldn't lust after him, but his growing hard on makes a convincing counter argument. Jack finds it more difficult than ever to make an excuse to himself, yet he manages to create one anyway. 

So he finds Rhys strangely attractive,  _ whatever,  _ he doesn’t actually care about him or anything. He just needs to satisfy his strange desires, after that everything will be back to normal. Just one night with Rhys, and then he will mean nothing to him again. When would that be though? Can he even make Rhys do that sober? What if he doesn’t actually want him? Is Rhys a virgin?  _ He has to be _ . God forbid Rhys lose his virginity to  _ someone else _ ,  _ his  _ Rhys. Before he knows it Jack works out how to kill this hypothetical person who definitely would not treat Rhys the way he can. Rhys is much too delicate to be with any random asshole, they wouldn’t understand him the way Jack did. 

He wants to slap himself. His stomach lurches at the thought of Rhys being with someone else, and the fact that he even cares to begin with. Jack groans, rolling over on his stomach and then finally sitting up. He needs to distract his mind, so he decides to do so with the ice cream in the freezer. He stalks to the kitchen quietly to retrieve the frozen dessert and a spoon. He hadn't realized how hungry he is, since they left before dinner was served. There will definitely have to be breakfast in the morning.  _ It must be doughnuts, doughnuts from that place Meg the Assistant’s deadbeat boyfriend works, doughnuts for Blake also, and coffee, lot's of coffee. _ He shuffles off to the sofa shoveling a scoop of sweet, chocolatey goodness into his mouth. 

Rhys, meanwhile, could not be less concerned. The ceiling of his own room is a welcoming sight to behold. He has no idea what time it is, but he figures it’s too early for anyone sensible to be awake. After such a long night, he cares neither about what time it is, nor anything else, save for the heavy embrace of a warm blanket. In his drowsiness it takes Rhys a while to notice that the blanket covering him feels irregular.

Lying on his back, Rhys holds the fabric above himself, attempting to make out a shape. His eyes strain to identify the mass of cloth in the dark. He can't quite identify it until a length of it lands on his face. The aroma of the material gives it away. 

"Oh," Rhys exclaims to no one but himself, upon realizing that the “blanket” on his face is actually the sleeve of Jack's coat. He lets the whole jacket fall over him once more, marvelling at how heavy it feels. He certainly wouldn't want to wear it all day. It reminds Rhys that he is still wearing formal clothes, which also are not the most comfortable. Reluctant to stumble around in the dark trying to put on pyjamas, Rhys strips down to his briefs before returning to the soothing shelter of Jack's coat. 

The smooth, silky fabric of the lining brushes his skin. Rhys giggles like an idiot, a stupid, hopeless, love struck, unfathomably happy idiot. He buries his face in the coat, allowing him to get another whiff of Jack's scent. It only makes his cheeks redder and his face warmer. The smell of champagne and cigarettes hovers around him. His toes curl playfully under the well tailored garment. He smiles like clothespins are pinching his cheeks, more drunk on the smell than the champagne in his bloodstream. He doesn't care about anything. He doesn't worry about the explaining he will have to do tomorrow. Everything is fine, is safe.

* * *

 

Rhys arrives at the office extremely late. The spring in his step doesn’t go unnoticed by Vaughn and Yvette, not that he makes any effort to hide it. The satisfied smile, the slight sway in his walk, it all points to one thing in their minds. 

“Afternoon,” he greets the two of them briefly before walking toward the door of his mom’s office. He can hear Vaughn murmuring something in between Yvette trying to stifle a laugh.

“Are we just supposed to pretend we don't know he got laid?” Vaughn whispers.

“Oh my god,” Rhys groans. He pauses in the doorway. 

“Touchy, isn't he?” Yvette remarks.

Rhys attempts to ignore them…

“Classic case of regret,” Vaughn gives his diagnosis.

And he fails.

“I can hear you y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well I hope  _ you _ can hear  _ me _ because I'm only going to say it once. I. Did not. Sleep. With. Anybody.  _ Okay? _ ”

“ _ Sure _ you didn't. Bro, nobody shows up at work in the middle of the day all perky and junk for no reason.”

“I’m serious, Vaughn!”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.”

“So much denial,“ he mutters, as soon as Rhys turns his back. 

Rhys spins around on his heels slowly, punctuating his annoyance with an incoherent grunt of frustration.

“Come oooooonn, man. You had to have done something.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. You were  _ whistling  _ when you walked in.  _ Whistling. _ ”

“That doesn't mean anything!”

“What was it, Rhys?”

“Fine! We made out, Vaughn! Are you happy? Has that information transformed your life?”

“Wait. Who is we?” Yvette asks, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

“Me and Jaaaah- Jasmine.” Rhys nearly blurts out the truth in his annoyance.

“Jasmine?” Yvette folds her arms suspiciously. “And what does Jasmine do?”

“She's an engineer.”

“Where?”

“Dahl...”

Yvette narrows her eyes, clearly not convinced. 

“Well that's pretty crazy, how'd that happen?” Vaughn asks.

“We met at the party and just sorta hit it off.”

”Really, the CEO of Maliwan and a random Dahl engineer just kind of clicked?”

Even Vaughn barely believes him. Rhys knows his next lie must be pretty deep and sincere. He tries to imagine his made up woman.

“You guys laugh all you want, but she's…” What did he supposedly love about her? “She's not like anyone I've ever met before. She's so… so… crazy, and spontaneous, and  _ alluring _ , but also dangerous,  _ so, so dangerous.”  _ The disbelief on their faces persists; Rhys needs to dig. He takes a deep breath, trying to visualize Jack. He could almost feel the warmth of his arms around him and the smokey taste of his lips. A subconscious smile spreads across his face and an odd, yet pleasant sensation flutters in his chest. “And she's smart, like really smart, and gorgeous, and... God, I don't know what it is, but when I'm with her I just feel so  _ free,  _ ya know? Like I can do anything I want and nobody can stop me. She's just so confident and- and even elegant at times and that makes me feel… that makes me…”

“Bro, you're rambling,” Vaughn remarks, braking Rhys’ trance.

“Oh, sorry,” Rhys sighs. He tries to hide the heat of  his face and the embarrassment in his stomach from talking about Jack that way, even if he is the only one who knows.

“Well, she sounds like a great…  _ lady _ ,” Yvette comments. Rhys can tell she still isn't totally convinced, but Vaughn’s belief would remedy that. 

“Aaaawww,” Vaughn croons. “Our little Rhys is in love.” 

Yvette rolls her eyes fondly at Vaughn's almost parental sense of pride. He throws Rhys off balance with a congratulatory pat on the back. 

“So, when do we get to meet her?” he asks.

“Well, probably not too soon,” Rhys answers. He sidles away from Vaughn's touch.

“Why not?” 

“Oh, you know...”

Rhys stands only a few steps away from the safety and seclusion of his temporary office. If he maneuvers himself just right, he can make it there without further interrogation. Backing away slowly, he almost succeeds until he collides with Yvette.  _ When did she get there? _

“What's the matter? Do we embarrass you?” he teases.

“Yeah, is that what it is?” Vaughn laughs. “Don't want Jasmine the total hotty to see your weird friends?” He sticks his tongue out and wiggles his fingers as if to emphasize the “weirdness.” 

Rhys can't help but laugh. For a moment he tries to imagine them meeting Jack until he realizes he has no clue what that would be like. Part of him doesn't want to know.

“Yep, don't want the two of you scaring her away,” he jokes. “But seriously, she's from Dahl. I can't bring her here, mom would flip.”

“Well that's her fault for making enemies with everyone. Dahl probably isn't even aware of it.” Vaughn makes a painfully accurate point.

“That's mom,” Rhys sighes. “That's why both of you are going to take this to your graves.” He puts a hand firmly on both their shoulders. “ _ Right?”  _  Both nod, Yvette still more reluctantly than Vaughn. She and Rhys both look at Vaughn, who begins laughing to himself. 

“What's funny?” Rhys asks.

“Heh, it’s nothing really…”

“Vaughn,” Yvette urges him to open up, a bit of threat in her voice. 

“Fine…” Vaughn groans. “I was laughing because I thought about what would happen if Rhys was going out with Jack.” His laughter resumes.

“What if he was? Which I  _ seriously  _ hope he  _ isn't, _ ” she says, cutting a glance at Rhys.

“No, no way,” Rhys tries his best to sound repulsed.

Vaughn just about doubles over with laughter. “Yeah, I know.” He wipes away a tear under his glasses. “Mrs. Maliwan would be so pissed! She'd probably be mad if Rhys was dating a piece of gum that allegedly got stuck on Jack's shoe twelve years ago. She'd lock you in a tower Rapunzel style, man.” 

“Eeeww, gross,” Yvette giggles. “Can you imagine him with really long hair?”

Eventually Rhys joins their laughter. The mental image of he and Jack in the classic fairy tale  _ is _ pretty hilarious. He sees his chance to escape, which he gladly takes. Relief washes over him as he leans against the other side of the door. He exhales slowly, alone at last. 

"Wow, you aren't cheating on me with this Jasmine girl are you?” 

Rhys figures if he'd jumped any higher at the voice, they would have found his feet hanging out of the ceiling.

“Jack?” His voice cracks on an embarrassing level.

“The one and only. PICK UP YOUR PHONE, DUM DUM!”

Rhys quickly does as he is commanded.

“Hey, did I uh- did I call you or something?”

“Nah, just thought I'd check up on you, pumpkin. There's a lot of real creeps out there looking to take advantage of someone like you. Hearing that little fib you told your buddies was just a happy coincidence of you answering the phone with your ass. Gotta hand it to you, it was pretty good. You sure you've only been a slimy businessman for a week? Cause that was the skills that kills, Rhysie. Real dramatic too, I actually considered getting some popcorn.”

“Um, thanks? And I'm not cheating on you? Because we aren't in a relationship?”

“I don't know, cupcake. Last night you told me we were gonna do some stuff that is pretty much reserved for people in a relationship.”

Rhys blushes furiously. For the longest time neither says anything. Rhys suspects for a minute that Jack might have hung up.

“Look, I'm sorry. Okay? If you never want to see me again… I understand.”

“For what?”

“For… You know…”

Jack doesn't respond, he wants to hear Rhys say it.

“For getting drunk and coming on to you,” Rhys speaks so quickly his words are nearly incomprehensible. 

Another pause makes Rhys more anxious by the second. He prepares himself for rejection.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Rhys raises his voice. “What do you mean okay?”

“I mean okay as in okay.”

“So you’re totally fine with this?”

“Thought we already established that.”

“But how? I mean, that was so bad and embarrassing and… I-I barely know you, but I… You don't see how this could possibly be a huge mistake?”

“Pumpkin, there are worse things we could've done, believe you me.”

Rhys blushes immediately. 

“So you're totally fine with this? You aren’t upset about last night?”

“It's kinda flattering actually.”

Rhys lets out a sigh of relief.

“How bout this, kitten?” Jack purrs.  “We try this thing again, only this time we'll take it slow.”

“How slow?”

“As slow as you want.”

“Where do we start though?”

“Where do you want to start?”

Rhys thinks for a moment. “I think you owe me a meal,” he answers.

Jack sniggeres.

“ _ That's _ the Rhys I know. What a spoiled brat. How about dinner next Saturday?”

“Yes, I do believe that will satisfy my esteemed tastes,” Rhys mocks Jack's stuffy, uptight perception of him. “What shall I say to mother?”

“I think I can trust you, Rhysie, so it goes without saying. Not a word of this to  _ anyone _ . You seem to be doing well with that so far.”

“I was joking,” Rhys stammers.

“I know, I’m just fucking with you, I’m going to send you my personal number. Give it to anyone and you're dead. I don't care how adorable you are, you will die.”

All Rhys can think to say is, “oh.” Jack seems to find it amusing, laughing at him a bit before carrying on about how great the previous night was. He babbles interminably about how he had people eating out of his hands, and who was dressed stupidly, and which decorators were getting fired for choosing the wrong cutlery. Rhys simply smiles and nods or gives short comments between bites of the bagel that awaits him on his desk. It takes all of his personal discipline not to ravenously shovel the entire thing into his mouth, but other than that he couldn't be more content.

“By the way, cupcake, you can keep the coat.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack does not get the doughnuts he wanted and is way too committed to the crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Vasquez being Vasquez

Jack would call himself accustomed to being stared at, usually with fear or awe, but never with such a great amount of resentment, especially from his own employees. Most hated him, but few would ever dare to be so obvious and the ones who did were now somewhere of little concern to Jack. Even those who usually don't dare look at him seem to peek around corners and over cubicles as he passes through the halls. Some even have the audacity to look him in the eyes. Those were the ones whose names he makes sure to take down a mental note of. Jack can't fathom the reason for it, but he knows it is definitely related to Rhys. He could  just assume it’s because Rhys is a man, and he has been known to have a penchant for bad ass supermodel lookalikes, but the paper pushers wouldn't risk their own well being simply to judge his sexual preferences. There has to be something else.

Only Megan seems normal. Along with her usual morning greeting, the young woman has a the doughnut he wanted waiting for him on her desk, wrapped daintily in a pink polka dotted napkin. Unlike everyone else, the only grudge Megan holds against Jack is that he didn't show up on time when the doughnut would have still been warm.

Jack hopes that Blake hasn't also caught a case of scornful glaring. He finds out sooner than he thought. Blake leans against the edge of his desk, reverently avoiding sitting in his chair. The light from the wall of a window behind him transforms him into a silhouette, accentuating his tall angular figure. As he gazes out the window he doesn't appear to notice Jack enter. Jack decides he will wait to see how long it will take Blake to notice him. Maybe he could startle him if he got close enough.

“You know you could have sat in the chair, right? he says, once he stands less than a meter away. “I've let you get away with worse.”

Blake turns around as calmly as ever.

“You were unusually quiet coming in, it likely would not have been wise.” He gives Jack a knowing smile, well aware of the trick he tried to pull. “Furthermore, I'm not sure I want to sit in it it considering what might have happened there yesterday evening,” he quips.

“Very funny, Mr. Blake. In fact, so funny that I'm promoting you to senior vice president of sarcastic remarks and suggestive banter. So are you gonna tell me why everybody's giving me the stink eye, or am I gonna have to take away your new promotion?” Jack teases.

“Would I be here if I wasn't?* Blake replies coolly.

“Then by all means, Jeffry, do impart your incredible wisdom.”

“Vasquez saw the book.”

“Evidence?”

“The pages are missing.”

“And he's shared ‘em with everybody, hasn't he?’

Blake nods solemnly. “I wouldn't recommend eating that doughnut. You don't know what might be in it.”

“Well, shit,” Jack spits, throwing his arms into the air before letting them fall to his sides abruptly.

“What do you suggest we do, sir?”

“I suggest _you_ never let that thing out of your sight again. As far as Vasquez goes…” Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes clamped shut. His head tilts a bit and his shoulders roll forward. Blake recognizes it as a sign of an oncoming headache; however, he does not expect to hear a hint of laughter with it.

“You know what? I can't get over how insulting this is,” Jack clucks. “Really though. He had the book. He could have just taken some pictures of it and gone on his merry way and we wouldn't have a clue, but good ole dumbass decided to rip out the pages and thought we'd be too dumb to notice. That's just plain negligent.”

“Unless of course he wanted us to know.”

“Now you're really thinking!”

“Why would he want us to know though?”

“I have no idea, but I'm going to find out. Get him in here.”

“Right away, sir.”

Just one week into the plan and the worst case scenario already starts to unfold. The strategy might not be as foolproof as Jack initially believed. It hasn't all been rendered unsalvageable though, he can fix it as soon as Vasquez gets here. In the meantime, he occupies himself with trying to sink the potentially poisonous doughnut into the waste bin. He manages to get the dessert itself in, then tries for the napkin, which takes many more attempts than expected. His personal victory celebration for making the shot ends up interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Yeah I heard you. Come in!” he growls, trying to sound more intimidating than someone who just grinned ear to ear at their elementary school caliber achievement.

“Sir? Mr. Blake said you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah I do. Close the door, will ya?”

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

“Sure is.”

“Well, sir, with all due respect, I'm not quite sure I know what-”

“ _Assquez,_ do you think this is my first rodeo?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what did you want out of showing those pages to my employees?”

Vasquez finally gives up the act. A smirk spreads on his face.

“I don't know yet. Let's negotiate.”

“Negotiate? Alright then. Here's my offer: you go tell everyone the truth and I let you keep your job and your life. How does that sound?”

“The truth? Are you sure? Maliwan would be bound to find out if so many people knew.”

“Then tell them you lied.”

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don't I'll make sure you never work in this town or any other one ever again.”

Vasquez simply keeps his smug, nonplussed smile.

“You _could_ do that, but it would look suspicious.”

Jack growls in frustration as he rubs his temples.

“Fine. Just for today I will ask you. Despite the fact that you are the biggest fuck up of a human being I have ever met, I will ask you. What do you want? A promotion? A raise? What?”

“I'll take both.”

“Son of a-” Jack bites his lip.

“I wanna raise and I wanna be the head of my department.”

“Fine,” Jack grumbles.

“ _And,_ and affiliated departments.”

“Fine. So are you gonna tell them you lied or what?”

“Depends. Will have an office with a window and one of those credenzas when I come in tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.”

Vasquez leaves with a smug swagger in his step that makes Jack want to break his legs. His fists clench, he plans to enjoy snapping that asshole's neck after this whole thing boils over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yvette is OP.

Rhys can't think of a better way to spend the evening than games with his friends, although he will admit that their competitive spirit gets out of hand on occasion.

“Yvette, quit spamming the explosives!” Vaughn complains so loudly Rhys is forced to turn down the volume of his laptop.

“Suck it nerds!” she proclaims triumphantly, after her third consecutive victory. “Alright, I'm pausing for a snack break, dweebs. Don't start the next round without me.” Rhys waits until he is sure she has gone to her kitchen before he speaks.

“Hey, Vaughn. I have a question for you.”

“What's up, man?” His friend's concerned expression appears on his screen.

“If you were going to take a girl to the most fancy place in town for dinner, where would you take her?”

“You're asking  _ me  _ about fancy places, Mr. Richie Rich?” 

“Vaughn, I'm serious.”

“Ooooo, is this about Jasmine?”

Rhys narrowly stops himself from asking “ who?” 

“Yes. I promised we'd go out Saturday and she wants me to pick a place.”

Vaughn hums. “Well, the fanciest place I've ever been is Baker's.”

“Is that the one in that hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“What hotel?” Yvette joins in, slightly muffled by a mouthful of cheese balls.

“The one with Baker's,” Vaughn replies.

“What about it?”

“Rhys is taking his date there Saturday.”

“Yikes, showing off much?”

“What's wrong with it?” Rhys retaliates.

“A little ostentatious for a first date don't you think?”

“She's an ostentatious kind of girl,” Rhys replies.

“Oh,  _ one of those  _ girls,” Yvette remarks.

“Don't be like that. You've never even met her.”

“Only cause you don’t want me to. And here I thought you were trying to avoid becoming the self fulfilling rich boy stereotype.”

“I am!”

“Hey, Yvette,” Vaughn interrupts their little spat. “Don't you live near that place?”

“A few blocks away.”

“Maybe you could chaperone,” he laughs. “Make sure there's no shenanigans going on.”

“Trust me, I'll be watching.”

Rhys hopes she is joking.

“Hey guys, maybe now we could stop picking on me and get back the game?” 

“Why, Rhys? You two in a rush to have your asses handed to you again?” Yvette chuckles.

“Oh it is on now, woman!” Vaughn shouts. Rhys turns the volume down even more.

Yvette emerges victorious yet again after another screaming match with Vaughn. “Alright ladies, this champion has to get her beauty sleep. I have an early start tomorrow, can’t be less than flawless.”

“Fine, Ms. Perfect. We’re not gonna miss ya.”

“You sleep well too, Vaughn.” 

A notification tells Rhys that she has signed off.

“So how about we have a  _ fair _ match now, bro?” Vaughn asks.

“Actually, can I just talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Vaughn pops up on his screen with an eager smile. It soon dissipates when he sees the worry on his friend’s face. “Are you okay, man? You aren’t normally this fine with losing.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What's on your mind?”

“I was just thinking… Vaughn, what if she’s right?”

“I think she’s just being a protective mamma. You can’t really blame her for having suspicions about someone you won’t let her meet.”

“That’s true,” Rhys mutters.

“So what does she look like anyway?” Vaughn chirps.

“Huh?”

“What does your girlfriend look like? If I’m never gonna meet her you could at least tell me what she looks like.”

“Oh.  _ Oh,  _ well that’s a tough question,” Rhys stutters.

“I get it, dude.” Vaughn winks. “Can’t pick what you like most. I’ll wait.”

“Well she’s tall-ish. She has brown hair that sort of defies gravity you could say. What I like most though… Hmmmm, that’d have to be her eyes.” Rhys can tell that the tips his ears are probably pink by Vaughn's amused grin.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes when I look at them I forget who I am.”

“Blue?”

“ _ And  _ green.”

“Sweet.”

“She also has an amazing smile. She doesn’t actually smile that much, but when she does I---” Rhys hides his face in his hands, too mortified to continue.

“Sounds like you got yourself a real knockout, bro. I’m proud of you. Anyway, I think I’m gonna take Vette’s advice and catch some quality z’s. Don’t even trip about your date, man. It’ll go fine.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

The screen where Vaughn was closes.

* * *

Leave it to Jack to disrupt Rhys’ plans just as soon as he makes them. He calls the next morning, much to Rhys’ dismay.

“So I think Saturday isn't actually going to work out.”

“Maybe some other time this week?”

“I don't think so.”

Rhys’ heart sinks. “Oh… Sorry. I- I understand. You've changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind? About what?”

“About going out with me. It's totally fine. I get it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are  _ you  _ talking about?” Rhys parrots.

Jack chuckles. “Shit, Rhys. You've got some low self esteem for being such a cocky jerk all the time.” Rhys doesn't plan on addressing such a glaring hypocrisy, it would take too long. ”It's not that I don't want to go, it's just that… well… I actually got Angel this weekend and I'd like to, y’know, spend time with her. I promised I'd take her out to a birthday dinner on Saturday.” Jack can still hear the instability in Rhys’ breath. “Look, why don't you come with us if you're so afraid I'm just trying to avoid you?” 

“Are you sure that I won't be overstepping?”

Rhys wouldn't be too much trouble. Jack could stand to earn more divorced dad sympathy points anyway. “It's fine. I gotta go make sure a credenza got here on time. Bye.”

From the moment he hangs up Rhys becomes trapped in a cloud of confusion, not because of the the rather odd remark Jack just made, but because he has no idea what to do when Saturday comes. At work, Vaughn and Yvette curiously watch his descent into madness. They witness him subconsciously spoon enough sugar into his coffee to form a small mountain, after which he knocks the cup over. They also remain vigilant to prevent him from folding every single piece of paper that passes over his desk into small, compact cubes. Despite their concern, they chalk it up to him simply being nervous about his date. 

When Saturday evening arrives Rhys tries on at least ten different outfits. He asked Jack how to dress, only to receive a one word reply. Now he has to decipher the meaning of “normal.” He figures jeans will be fine since Jack practically lives in them. He tries on several shirts but ends up throwing on a button down and a jacket, just in case he's under dressed. He calls a car to the front of his apartment building but never meets it. He decides not to make a grand entrance. After running to his closet, he digs through his pockets to find the metro pass Jack bought the other day. He doesn't find it. He'll need a new one, which means he'll have to figure that machine out,  _ god have mercy on his soul. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys realizes that he wants something in his life he never knew he wanted. It's the same thing Jack accepted he himself would never have a long time ago. Angel eats cake, finds it satisfactory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter by my standards. I spoil you guys. Jk, your comments give me life.

Rhys emerges from the abysmal labyrinth of public transportation, traumatized once again. He follows his GPS for a few blocks until he spots Jack and his daughter at a table by the window. Rhys takes a moment to absorb the smile on Jack's face. He laughs when the girl tears off the end of a straw wrapper, wrinkles her nose, and blows into the plastic tube, sending the remaining paper projectile right into Jack's face. She giggles until her face turns red as Jack pretends to be mortally wounded. Rhys takes a deep breath and walks inside. 

“Well, look who's here!” Jack crows. “I was starting to think you wouldn't show. Why don't you sit down?” Rhys doesn't like the look Jack's daughter is giving him. She glares at him harshly with his arms folded. “Angel, Rhys is Mrs. Maliwan's son. You remember Mrs. Maliwan.”

“She's that bitch that called you a vial unsalvageable piece of garbage, so you told her to shove it where the sun don't shine,” the girl replies. Rhys looks at Jack with alarm. He appears unfazed by her language. Rhys’ mother would never have allowed him to talk like that at her age. She doesn't allow it now.

“Yeah I did!” Jack reaches across the table for a high five, but ends up rejected.

“Dad, you promised you wouldn't work.”

“C'mon pumpkin, Rhys isn't work he's a… a friend.”

“You? With a Maliwan? Friends?”

“Yes,” Jack insists.

She sighs. “Fine. Nice to meet you, Rice.”

“Rhys,” he corrects her.

“Whatever.”

Jack chuckles. “Look at that, she just turned twelve and already mouths off like a teenager. She gets that from her mom.”

“Mom blames you.”

“Angel!  _ Honey,  _ you better be nice to Rhys. I bet he brought you a present.”

“I did.” Rhys slides the violet parcel across the table. She pulls it closer, still eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Can I open it now, Dad?”

“I don't know, baby girl. Ask Rhys.”

“Can I open it, dork face?” Jack snorts. Rhys glares at him.

“It's  _ your _ birthday,” he replies. 

Angel opens the package cautiously, glancing up at Rhys with each tear of the paper.

“That’s a beautiful bracelet, honey. Why don't you try it on?”

She fastens it around her wrist, still burning holes in Rhys’ with her piercing blue eyes. “Thanks,” she grumbles. They sit in insufferable silence until Jack's phone rings. He stands up.

“Sorry. Gotta take this.”

“Dad, you promised.”

“It'll just be five minutes, Angel. Promise.”

Rhys hopes that this promise is a real one. He can't be left alone with Angel for five whole minutes. He doesn't have any siblings or anything, he's never talked to kids. Remaining silent seems to be the best route, though Angel maintains her deadly eye contact. Unfortunately, five bitter minutes turn to ten and then to twenty. Angel gets tired of intimidating him and starts to look out the window instead. Rhys sees her lip quiver a little before she pulls her hair over her eyes and looks down at her lap. He clears his throat.

“I'm sorry I had to ruin your birthday. I told him it probably wasn't a good idea, but hey, at least now you have an eridium bracelet. That's neat.”

She sniffles, peaking out at him from under her bangs. Those expressive doe eyes seem to be the only physical trait she shares with her father. “Eridium,” she repeats.

“Yeah. It's a new element they discovered. Glows in the dark and stuff.”

Angel brushes her hair away from her face a bit. She turns the bracelet slowly around her wrist, examining it with a new curiosity. “Only the stable isotopes glow in the dark, the others radiate particles faster than photons. It's gonna change quantum computing forever,” she corrects him.

“How do you know so much about eridium processing? It barely exists yet.”

She actually smiles at him for once. “My dad is in charge of the biggest weapons tech company on the planet, and I'm kinda in love with technology. How would I not have heard of it?”

“At Maliwan we have a whole research lab dedicated to eridium powered tech. Maybe you could come for a visit sometime, if you want to.”

Rhys doesn't expect his suggestion to be received with much enthusiasm. 

“Really? That would be the coolest!”

“You think so?”

“Totally!” She giggles.

Rhys gets another idea.

“So you like technology?” She nods. “Then you might wanna check this out,” he offers, rolling up his sleeve. 

“Cool, Dad’s never brought a robot to dinner before,” she gasps.

“I prefer cyborg,” he jokes.

Her laugh puts him at ease.

* * *

 

“Listen, Blake. Tell him I know what I told him, but he's still not getting his stupid credenza  until Friday. _ What?  _ Tell him too fucking bad... Look, I can't make it get here any faster. I know I get my way a lot, but nothing I can do will make the postal system function. I'm a man, not a miracle worker…  _ Goddammit…  _ Ask if he’ll settle for the  _ largest  _ chest of drawers I can find in the meantime… Alright! Can I get back to my daughter now? Yeah, that's what I thought.”

Jack considers hurling his phone out into the middle of the road. Instead of chucking it, he shoves it back into his pocket. He needs to take a few seconds to cool down before he goes back inside. He can see Angel and Rhys through the window.  _ They're laughing?  _ Angel pokes and prods at Rhys’ arm. She bends each of the robotic joints on his fingers. Rhys says something. They laugh. The waitress approaches. Angel points something out to Rhys on the menu. Rhys shrugs and orders the item she suggests. Angel resumes tinkering with his cybernetic prosthetic. Jack finds himself smiling, but soon shoves the warm fuzzy feeling back to the outer recesses of his mind. He rubs his eyes in disbelief. What the hell happened while he was gone? 

They don't even look at him as he approaches the table.

“Do you have to charge it?” Angel asks.

“Only at night,” Rhys replies. “It can run for about a week on battery, but I don't want to sleep with it on anyway.”

“Awesome…” Angel chimes.

“How are my favorite people doing?” Jack interrupts.

“Me and Rhys are gonna share some fondue.”

“Do I get any?”

“Only if you're good.” Rhys laughs at her answer. 

“You've got a smart daughter Jack. Better watch your back.”

“Yep,” Jack replies. He stretches his arms, covertly wrapping one around Rhys’ waist. “She gets that from her old man.”

“Daaaaaad,” Angel groans.

“What? It's the truth.”

“Are you sure?” Rhys teases.

Angel shows her approval with a fist bump. Jack doesn't mind their mockery. He's perfectly content to sit and listen to their banter for the rest of dinner. When did he become so sentimental?  _ Disgusting.  _ All this little friendship is going to do is bring an additional person into a game with too many players already. Jack will admit that the plan is becoming too hard to manage, even for someone as incredible as himself. It's going to drive him crazy. At least Angel showing Rhys the best method for dipping food in cheese is pretty cute.  _ Shit, the crazy has already started.  _

After the table is cleared, an enthusiastic squadron of servers bustles out of the kitchen with a cake large enough to cause envy at every other table. Rhys and Angel's faces light up equally at the tower of chocolate pastry. Angel scoots her chair toward Jack for a picture. The waiter holding the camera gestures for Rhys to join in.

“Oh, no. I'm not-”

“Come on, Rhys,” Angel whines. 

“I really shouldn't.”

Jack ends up dragging him over by his sleeve. His vision temporarily bails on him after the flash. No one camera should be so bright. Once the moment is captured Angel digs in. She doesn't hesitate to blow out the candles, then she plucks a strawberry from the top.

“What did you wish for, pumpkin pie?”

“You know I'm not supposed to tell you, Dad,” she replies. She munches on the chocolatey strawberry while the waitress doles out the cake. Several bites of sugary goodness later, Jack notices the matching dollops of icing on Rhys and Angel's noses. There's no reason to take a picture, so why is he taking his phone out?  _ Dammit _ . He did it anyway, but not because he wants to remember the moment or anything. It's for blackmail, for later, somehow.  _ Yeah. No.  _ He can't convince himself with that weak of an excuse. He needs to shut this thing down immediately.

“Rhys, you need a ride back?”

“I wouldn't mind one. Don't really feel like taking the train again.”

“You took the train?”

“Yeah.”

“Successfully?”

Rhys shrugs. Jack looks stunned.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No. I just didn't expect, y'know, after the first time.”

“I may have been exaggerating. It wasn't  _ that _ terrible.” They depart from the threshold of the restaurant, into a veritable monsoon. Jack smirks at Rhys as they belt across the wet pavement. “ _ What?  _ You're making a face. Why are you making a face?”

“I'm just proud of you is all.”

Rhys rolls his eyes and gets in the car. Angel demands that he sit in the back with her.  _ Of course Jack would still drive the car himself, couldn't possibly pay people to do tasks for him. Couldn't possibly remember to bring an umbrella either.  _ He shivers in the cold embrace of his drenched clothes.

“I forgot my jacket,” he announces.

Jack groans. He charges back inside through the downpour. Rhys and Angel are left in silence once again.

“So are you and Dad dating or what?”

Rhys bumps his head on the ceiling. “

“I don't- I mean- I uh...” Angel raises an eyebrow incredulously. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes or no?”

“Well, honestly I wish I knew,” he sighs in defeat.

“I'm sorry about earlier. Usually when he brings someone to dinner without telling me they're just- I don't know how to say it. They don't like him for his heart.”

“Oh,” Rhys mouths.

“I know it makes him sad, but I don't want someone like that to be my mom...”

“Can't he tell they're fake?”

“I think so, but I think he likes it.”

Rhys shifts in his seat. “I guess if they're dependent they can't leave.”

“Maybe…” She nudges his shoulder. “I like you though. You're already rich I think, so you must like dad for real. Right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Angel giggles softly at his joke.

Jack comes back looking like someone pushed him into a swimming pool. He says nothing during the entire drive to Rhys’ building. Like a cat that fell in the bathtub, he drips and scowls in inaudible acrimony. 

“Rhys, we’re here.” He doesn't detect any movement. “I said we're here.” Still nothing. He glances at the rearview mirror. Rhys’ eyes meet his in the mirror. He smiles warmly and looks away. Jack follows his gaze to Angel. She is out cold, her head resting on Rhys’ shoulder. 

“Can I get up without waking her?” Rhys whispers.

“Yeah, just do it. You fill that child up with food and she could sleep through a nuclear holocaust.” 

Rhys opens the door and gathers his jacket. He takes a deep breath before he steps out on onto the curb, knowing that once he does nothing will ever be the same. Rain pelts his face as he stands on the sidewalk. The car pulls away, a new piece of his puzzle waiting so tenderly to be lost. He lingers there until it disappears into a distant fog. If not for his smile the rain streaming down his cheeks might have looked like tears. His already fragile heart turns to glass begging to be broken. 

* * *

 

Angel is still dead to the world by the time Jack gets home. He hopes the elevator has been repaired since the last time he saw it. Carrying her up fifty flights of stairs doesn't exactly sound like a thrilling adventure. He can confirm that having dealt with Rhys’ little episode. Luckily, maintenance must have come by while they were out. He fumbles with his keys at the door, trying his best not to jostle Angel awake when working with his left hand. Once the door is unlocked, he pushes it open with his foot so he can return to holding her with both arms. All he has to do now is put her in her room. 

He maneuvers through the dark safely, thanks to her new bracelet. She remains limp as he sets her down in bed, causing her to lie in an uncomfortable looking starfish formation. The magenta glow shines brightly through the blankets Jack tries to cover her with. She moves from her limp ragdoll position to her side, forcing all of the blankets to burrito around her. At that point Jack decides he'll leave her to sort herself out. He pauses in the doorway when Angel calls to him.

“Dad?” 

“I’m right here, baby doll. What is it?”

“He’s a keeper,” she mumbles.

Jack chuckles. “If you say so, pumpkin.” He closes her door, shutting himself out into empty darkness. He figures he might as well take advantage of this rare day off and get some sleep. He can't think of any reason to stay up.

The light in the bathroom blinds him, making it difficult to turn on the sink. He peels off his damp clothes while he waits for the water to heat up. The cold air agitates his wet skin. His eyes wander to the other half of the of the double vanity. It sits there desolately, untouched as ever.  _ Great, _ even his bathroom has to remind him that he'll probably die alone. He splashes a handful of water on his face. The concealer over the scar across his eye drips away with the it. He examines himself in the mirror, making note of every new wrinkle and grey hair. At this rate he’s going to look fifty by the time the whole Rhys situation boils over, purely from the stress of it all. He removes his contacts to avoid seeing such details. The blurry image offends him much less than the truth.

He collapses onto the king bed as limply as Angel did, yet his body doesn't even cover half of it. The empty space doesn't faze him like it  might have a long time ago. He likes to think of it as his own island, an island where he surveys the sea of blackness around him, an island he has ruled alone for almost six years of blindness. He doesn't care though. He was- should be _\- is,_ fine with it. He's fine with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe Rhys succeeded at public transportation? Me neither.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys just wants to eat breakfast, unfortunately obstacles abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but the next chapter is nice and long again.

The personal chef Rhys’ mother recommended has quite an impressive repertoire, yet one of Rhys’ most favorite dishes in the rotation also happens to be the most simple. If he were stranded on an island with nothing to eat but those Nutella pancakes, he'd be all set. His mouth waters at the decadent aroma wafting from the kitchen. He sits at the table, checking his phone while he waits. It informs him of two missed calls from his mother. _Fantastic_. Certainly she won't nag him about that. He figures he might as well bite the bullet and call her. His leg bounces up and down like a rabbit on caffeine as he listens to the dial tone.

“Hello.”

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Who is this?”

“It's me.”

“Who?”

“Your son, Rhys.”

“I called you last night. I’m glad you decided that you love me enough to call back.”

 _Lord. Here it comes._ “I'm sorry, I was busy. Anyway, I'm glad you called. You must be getting your strength up.”

“Too busy for your poor mother?”

“No, ma'am.”

Rhys feels a headache coming on. He has only been awake for an hour and he can already predict a migraine. That woman has a gift for frustrating him

“Where were you at? I called Yvette, but she only told me that you weren't home.”

“I was at a movie with Vaughn.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Is that so? Please explain then, why I'm holding a magazine with you on the cover out gallivanting with Jack Lawrence and his little brat.”

His heart almost stops. He knew that flash was too bright to have been from just one camera. “It was just a quick stop is all, for good publicity and what not. I just dropped by to give the little runt a gift. Business Relations told me it might help placate her father.” He holds his breath as she evaluates his response.

“I’ll have to have a discussion with them,” she mutters in a familiar acerbic tone. Rhys exhales. He knows the guilt from the unconscionable hit he just put on the Business Relations department is going to weigh on him.

“It _did_ go well, Ma’am,” he remarks, trying to soften the blow if he can.

She won’t be persuaded. He should have expected as much. “I don’t plan to let them get away with sending you into an unnecessary engagement with that man. I wouldn’t make you to visit that little hell spawn of his if she were hospitalized.” Rhys fights the urge to snap back at her. His blood boils in silence. “I’ll let you go now. Those quack doctors are here again for my therapy. Why must they insist on coming here so early in the morning?”

“I don’t know, Mother, but please consider doing as they say this time.”

“I’ll be as skeptical as I wish, young man.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Rhys thrills at the return of the dial tone. His pancakes are finally in front of him, but he reluctantly holds off on them to make another call.

“Hello?”

“Jack, it’s-”

“Hello? Hello?!” Jack’s voice barely cuts through the loud screeching and rumbling in the background.

“Jack? It’s Rhys. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you now. Sorry, Rhysie. Jack Hammer McGee decided to prove construction workers don’t just stand around like assholes all of a sudden.”

“So you’re in the street?”

“No shit.”

“Ah, good. This is gonna sound weird, but can you go to a newsstand?”

“Sure? Usually I would say no, but there's one right up at the corner here.” Rhys listens to the sound of morning commute traffic as Jack approaches the stand. “What am I looking for exactly?”

“You'll know it when you see it,” Rhys assures him.

“I don't know what you're- What the fuuuu…” Jack trails off.

“Hello? Jack? Are you still there?” For a few seconds all Rhys can hear is cars again.

“WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS SHIT!” Rhys jumps at the sudden increase in volume. “Happy birthday Angie!” Jack begins to read off the title dramatically. “Hyperion CEO'S daughter gets new “mom” for birthday?”

“You're going to get rid of it right?”

“Faster than they can print it,” Jack growls.

“Good. Between you and Mother it should be eradicated by noon.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. You're tellin me your old lady knows about this?! That isn't gonna fly, lemme tell ya.”

“Please. Don't- don't freak out. I convinced her it was just Business Relations screwing up. I feel kind of bad actually. I have a feeling that entire department has the seminar of a lifetime to look forward to.”

“Glad to see we're on the same team for once,” Jack mutters bitterly. Rhys hums in agreement. “How do they imagine our lives go you think? Do they like to think that I come bursting through the door like a gorilla every evening like _‘honey, I'm home!’_ Holy shit.”

Rhys’ lips start to give way to a smile. He decides to play along just this once. “Then I say, _‘gosh diddly darn, how was work, dear? I spent all day making a pot roast. Buy me more jewelry!’”_ Jack's laugh comes from deep in his stomach. He can't constrict it before it infects Rhys.

“And I say, ' _Angie!_ Who ever the fuck you are- _go_   _wash your hands and come enjoy this damn pot roast!’”_ They both spend a minute or two cackling away. “ _Fuckin Angie_ ,” Jack chokes between laughter. “How do they mess that shit up so bad?”

“Guess we'll just have to be extra careful on Saturday,” Rhys replies, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Oh yeah. Have you picked a place yet?”

“Yep.”

“So where?”

“It's a surprise,” Rhys teases.

“Oh, _I see_.”

“And hey,” Rhys smirks. “Don't wear that hideous get up you usually wear. Wear something like- I don't know, I'll send you something,”

“Ah, I get it. You're turning the tables on me.”

“Sure am. Just get dolled up by eight.”

“Will do, _Mr. Maliwan_ ,” Jack purrs sensually. Rhys can't hide his body's response to that.

“I- I'll see you then.”

“Yeah you will, baby.”

Rhys hangs up before his situation worsens. The phone calls took longer than he thought. He shrugs. _Cold Nutella pancakes are better than none._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angie tho.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack attempts brinkmanship, markedly fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sooooo long, but everywhere I tried to break it up felt pointless and stupid . If you follow my tumblr you'll know I have had a lot of time to do nothing but write it since I am currently in the hospital due to being stung on the neck by a venomous caterpillar.
> 
> Enjoy~

Jack still wouldn't give Rhys’ fashion sense a ten if he had to rate it, but he will admit the kid is improving. He hasn't lost his fascination with orange and blue, but he has replaced the unsightly electric blue with navy. Jack adjusts the bowtie Rhys sent him of that very color. He fiddles with it until the concentric, orange and white triangles on the bow are aligned perfectly. The cuff links follow the same design principle. The navy triangle encloses a white triangle, which encloses an orange one. If Blake could see him dressed like this he wouldn't hear the end of it. He won't be laughing after Maliwan becomes completely subordinate. Jack checks himself in the mirror one last time. _It's no yellow and hexagons but it'll do._ His phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Hello?”

“I'm down stairs.” Rhys’ dour tone makes the statement sound more like a command.

“Oh geez, I'll be down right away then, sir,” Jack mocks his demeanour.

“Fine.” Rhys hangs up abruptly.

Jack finds Rhys standing on the sidewalk nervously rotating the bezel on his watch.

“So?” Jack starts.

“So what?”

“Where are we going?”

Rhys gestures to the slick black limousine behind him.

“And you asked me if _I_ was taking _you_ to prom.”

Rhys wrings his hands. “I know. It's too much isn't it?”

“No. It's alright. I was just wondering why you didn't just drive here yourself.”

“I wanted to, but I can't right now.”

“Oh, expired license? If it makes you feel any better I haven't renewed mine in fifteen years.”

“No. I just…” He mumbles something Jack can't make out.

“Speak up, buttercup. I may look devilishly youthful and rugged, but I don't hear like I used to.”

“I said I don't- uh- that is…”

“What?”

“I don't know how to drive!” Rhys raises his voice a bit much. “I don't know how to drive, so I rented this limo cause I couldn't go to dinner with you without the chauffeur telling my mom, I don't know. Sue me.” He trains his eyes on the ground. He didn't want Jack to know. He probably thinks he's an idiot, can't even drive a car.

Jack pats him on the shoulder. “We can fix that sometime if you want, but we'll worry about it later. You gonna wine n dine me now or are we just gonna stand here til you nut up?” His answer comes as a surprise to Rhys. He simply opens the door for Jack in response.

The ride passes in silence, save for the tapping of Rhys’ feet. Jack can feel his gaze. He tries to start up a conversation, but Rhys turns away every time he reciprocates eye contact. He notices Rhys’ hand inch closer and closer to his own. Just when Jack thinks he might reach him he moves his hand back to his side. The process recurs once or twice more until Jack finally snatches his hand in irritation. Rhys’ jawline softens a little, but his pulse rushing in his wrist tells Jack that he hasn't calmed down any. When they get to the restaurant he releases Jack's hand and bolts around the car to open the door for him. Jack quirks an eyebrow at the forced gesture. He has to race Rhys to open the next door for himself. Rhys folds his arm, seemingly affronted by the act.

“Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re all stiff.”

“Am I? I didn't notice. Sorry.” Jack didn't want an apology. Rhys only gets worse when the hostess tells him they might have to wait twenty minutes. They wait for about five. Rhys paces the whole time. “Do you wanna go somewhere else? We can go somewhere else.”

“No, but if you don't want to wait I can get into the roof top. That's where they keep the better booze anyway.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I need to make a call first.”

“You don't have to. We can wait. I can wait. It's fine.”

Jack figures sitting in the crowded restaurant would only push Rhys closer to the edge of his inexplicable meltdown. He pulls his phone out of his pocket despite the protest. Rhys watches him as if staring harder will enable him to hear the conversation. He only picks up Jack's end of the call.

“Are you at work? Where? I was just heading there myself… Yes, Maliwan. I bet you talked to Angel… Yeah, I know. I read about Angie… Yeah, well she talks to you more than me… No, I swear she does… And what did being nice ever getcha? Fine, different strokes for different folks. So are you gonna meet me or not? Okay see ya.”

Rhys’ foot is tapping fast enough to generate electricity. Jack drags him through the lobby to the elevator. The tapping continues.

“Stop that,” Jack finally says.

Rhys drums his fingers against the wall instead. Jack inspects him for a sign that something might be physically wrong. The only issue he notices is the pattern on Rhys’ pants. Jack can't say he is a fan of orange and blue pinstripes, not even on solid black. Only when the elevator reaches their stop does Jack realize he might be about disturb Rhys even more. Sure enough Rhys’ eyes go wide when a carbon copy of Jack approaches them.

“Hey, Tim,” Jack greets him.

“How you doin? Come here to bother me?” The identical man jokes. He smiles at Rhys. “This must the one “Angie” told me about.”

“Rhys, Tim is my little brother.”

“You're only older than me by two minutes and thirteen seconds.” Jack whacks him on the back fondly. Tim whinces.

“Still counts. Anyway, Tim owns and operates this fine piece of real estate I found cause he was too damn nice to do my job, and his smart good looking brother told him to channel it into the hospitality industry.”

“Wow. What a great intro,” Tim remarks. “Do you tell everyone about me like that? I hope so. Anyway, how's it going? It's Rhys right?”

“Rhys Maliwan,” he replies. He shakes Tim's hands firmly. He says nothing more.

“So did you get me a table?” Jack asks.

“How could I refuse my brother when he's being so kind as to pay me a visit?”

“Can you get someone to take Rhys there?”

“Sure thing.” Tim waves at a woman across the room. “Show Mr. Maliwan to his table, Helen.” Rhys reluctantly follows her. He glares at Jack over his shoulder the whole way.

Jack feels like can finally breathe in the night air.

“You know the names of all your employees?”

“You don't?” Timothy retorts.

“No, cause I'm not a fuckin super computer.”

Tim grins. “That date of yours isn't much of a talker is he?”

“You'll have to forgive him. He isn't usually so… austere. There's something up with him.”

“Have you tried asking him about it?”

“Yep. He wouldn't tell me.”

“Did you try asking again?”

“You can do that?”

Tim leans against the rail around the perimeter. From that height the buildings look like a second sky full of stars. “Dad used to say you got all the brains in the family, but I would rather be an idiot than the most emotionally constipated man in the world.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“He's kind of young for you isn't he?”

“Yeah, but his mom is old.”

“What are you trying to do? Inherit the kingdom?” Tim laughs. His face falls when Jack doesn't reply. “Jack, you're joking.” Still nothing. “ _Jack._ You're not.”

Jack's voice falls to a whisper. “I have Maliwan in the palm of my hand and I _will_ crush it. Don't you want that?”

Tim removes Jack's hand from his shoulder. “I- Jack, please don't bring him into this. This is between you and her.”

“He's going to run the company eventually. Better now than later.”

“Jack, I can't.”

“Tim, please just back me on this.”

Timothy refuses to look him in the eyes. “Please, Timothy, for mom. _For mom_ …”

Tim's eyes shift back and forth rapidly. He groans. “Fine. If you want to destroy that nice young man's life and crush your daughter's hopes go ahead, but I don't want to be a part of this mess any more than you've already made me. I gotta get downstairs. They need me in the banquet hall.”

“Alright, but I'm gonna want the honeymoon sweet later.”

“You only come here when you do. We just fixed it from last time.”

“Good, cause I'm gonna wreck that-”

Tim scowls. “Ugh, spare me the details. I'll unlock it.” He turns to go.

“I'll see you around then,” Jack calls to him.

Tim shakes his head before vanishing into the elevator. _Whatever_. Jack doesn't need stupid Tim's approval. He scans the rooftop for his table. Eventually he spots Rhys at a corner looking distraughtly out over the city.

“What’s wrong, Rhys?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

“I'm gonna order a bottle of wine. Have some. Calm your nerves.” Rhys nods. He hides his face behind his menu. When their glasses are filled he picks his up gingerly. His trembling makes as small ocean in the goblet.

“What's wrong, Rhys?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s a pretty night.”

Rhys nods. His arm nudges his fork off of the table as he sets the glass back down. He flinches at the sound of it clattering to the floor.

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

“Then tell me what's wrong or I’ll go.”

“Okay, okay. It's just, I've never been on a date before.”

“We’ve been on three.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew we were.”

“That's it? That's what you're so stiff about?”

“Um, yeah?”

“You're doing fine, cupcake. I'm only worried cause you are.”

“Oh.”

“I think you've been going with the flow so much you forgot to be a river.”

“A river?”

“Yeah.” Jack rests his chin in his hands. Rhys leans forward on his elbows. From a distance someone might suppose them  conspirators.

“Well actually, you're more like a fish.”

“A fish?”

“Yeah. You and me, darlin. Two big fish in this little pond,” Jack purrs..

“Yeah?” Rhys sighs, sliding his feet between Jack's. Their faces are close enough now for Jack to feel his breath.

“Everyone else is just lucky we aren't enemies. We could burn this whole town to the ground, build it up, tear it down again.”

“Burn it down huh?” Rhys sounds as though he may be considering the idea.

“Sure, you and me… together.”

Rhys reaches across the table for Jack's hand. Jack’s entire body hums, as if it were his first time experiencing sensation. The candlelight burns golden in Rhys’ umber eyes, like puddles of liquid sunlight rained down on the earth. The moment they steal Jack's soul, the door to another reality opens, a reality he himself has made. Behind it lies a world of unbridled passion, free from the cold bloody grip of reason. Never in his life has Jack witnessed something so vast. The candlelight, the expensive wine, the fancy dessert, in the end it's all just one big distraction, still convincing him that his tender affections are just as extraneous and shallow as they. Jack doesn't walk through the door just yet, but perhaps it wouldn't hurt to keep it open. Rhys notices his entranced gaze.

“What's the matter, handsome? See something on the menu that you're _hungry_ for?” He cocks his head to the side with a ruthless little smile on his face. “Maybe something you wanna _sink your teeth into._ ” The flames in his eyes lap at Jack's skin once more.

Jack can't possibly accept such a sudden advance, doing so would violate the law on the rational side of the door. “Perhaps as a newbie to dates, you aren't aware that you have to save that kind of talk for later.”

Rhys turns Jack's hand over, tracing the lines with his fingertips. “What happened to being big fish? Didn't you just tell me we can do whatever we want?” Jack pulls his hand away from its assailant. Rhys has him there, but Jack refuses to cave, that is until Rhys finally chips away at his corner stone. “Aw, that's a shame. I thought maybe there was something you wanted from me, maybe something you want to _take_ from me.” Jack's breath catches in his throat. _What is it about alcohol that turns this kid into such a horn ball?_ He thinks he feels Rhys pawing at him under the table, but it's only for a split second. He leans over to whisper something, Jack meets him in the middle. “You don't have to worry about taking it though. I'd give it you. I'm only a _little_ drunk this time.” Rhys doesn't try to hide the smirk on his face when Jack takes out his wallet and throws the first large bill he sees onto the table. He forgets that Rhys is supposed to be treating him. All that drama over where to eat and they weren't even going to take the first bite of dinner, Jack thought that was the real shame.  

* * *

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go through the door, just this once, then Jack can leave and  close it forever, just like he's closing the door of the hotel room. Rhys finally releases him from the teasing grasp he kept him in on the way there. He meanders into the suite while Jack locks the door. When Jack turns around he expects to find Rhys splayed out on the mattress for him like a tease on the cover of a girly magazine; however, he actually doesn't see Rhys at all.

“Rhysie, where-” Jack grunts when Rhys knocks him over onto the plush bed in a surprisingly quick take down. He straddles his legs, wasting no time in smothering Jack's lips with his own. Jack can feel the satisfied smile on Rhys’ face until his confidence falters a bit when two rough hands come up to cup his ass. Rhys makes a tiny squeaky yelp when it happens, which Jack totally intends to amuse himself with the very mental image of for weeks. Eventually, Rhys eases into the touch; however, he loses his cool again when Jack's fingers curl under his waistband. He slaps his hand away.

“Wow,” Jack complains “you could not possibly mix your signals more.”

Rhys sits back on his knees dejectedly.  
“You're still dressed,” he complains. “Not that I'm mad. Maliwan does look good on you.” He waits for Jack to take some course of action, but he continues to just lounge there with his hands behind his head.

“Well you're the one who cares, so you should take care of it.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but starts to unbutton Jack's shirt nevertheless. He might live his whole life and never fully understand what he sees in that man. Cool, calculating eyes watch him closely with a smile that reveals their secret schemes. He hopes Jack doesn't notice his trembling fingers. He does. When the job is done Rhys’ hands fall back to his side. Jack raises a confused eyebrow.

“Honey, if this is all you're going to do to me I'm gonna get room service and call it a night.”

“I'm sorry, it's just- I've never-”

Jack sits up abruptly, roughly capturing his lips. His legs naturally wrap around Jack's waist. He makes a low, satisfied hum when Rhys’ hands sheepishly find their way to his chest. Jack unties the bow around his neck and shrugs his jacket and shirt off the rest of the way. He does the same for Rhys, albeit not as gently. Rhys thinks he sees a few buttons pop off before Jack discards the shirt on the floor.

“That was new.”

“I'll get you a new one. Oh my god.” He silently studies the intricate blue swirls and circles that paint most of Rhys’ chest and shoulders.  
Rhys has a nervous smile plastered on his face. There are so many features of his body that Jack could be judging right now.

“Woah, where did this come from?” Jack asks, slightly impressed in tone.

“I got it in college.”

“How do you hide _all this_ from her?” He gestures at the tattoos vaguely.

“Careful choice in shirts,” Rhys replies looking at the garment on the ground mournfully. Rhys hates it when Jack goes silent. Usually it means he is about to be shaken, sometimes in a physical sense. His prediction comes true. He makes the embarrassing squeak again when Jack switches their positions. “Hey!” Rhys retaliates, “I- mmmmmmmm…” He stops a moan between his lips when Jack's fingertips brush over his inner thigh. His hands trail over Rhys’ bare legs in an unexpectedly gentle manner.

“You didn't have to shave for me, sweetheart,” he jokes.

“Well guess what, I always do it anyway.” Jack just grins at him. It takes Rhys a second to realize what he has accidentally owned up to. “I just think it feels nice, okay?” he whines.  

“I never said I didn't like it,” Jack replies. “Makes ‘em nicer to wrap around me when I'm not spreading them.” He's got Rhys blushing all over again. “I can't decide if you're adorable or just plain hopeless,” he remarks.

 "I'm not hopeless."

"Say that when you aren't blushing. What's got you so worked up anyway? One minute you're falling apart the next minute you're trying to eat me..."

“Was I really nervous about telling you I can't drive? Yes. Did it kill me a little inside when I found out I took you to a restaurant in a hotel owned by your brother? A lot. But it's your own fault, dammit! You just do this stuff where you say things and then you do things and this is all I can think about. I don't know why. We're basically on the same level, at least economically speaking, but _you_ \- you terrify me and I've never been so happy.”

"So that's what gets your rocks off huh? Power? The lack thereof?"

"No." Rhys shakes his head. "It's the way you talk about it. It makes me crazy, and nervous, but that's okay cause you like to touch me when I'm nervous."

“That's not true. Not all the time.”

“Oh, Jack,” Rhys mocks himself. “I'm nervous about my job, hold my hand. Oh my gosh, I don't think I can handle a big fancy event, can you put your arm around me? I've never been on a date before, hold me all night you big strong man.”

“Oh is that how it is?” Jack pins his wrists to the mattress. “I had no idea you were such a minx.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I think you know.”

“Do you know what I'd very much like you to do to me?”

Jack clicks his tongue. “Tisk tisk, Rhysie. What would your mother say if she knew you were going around enticing older men with your virginity like a little whore?” Rhys doesn't care to consider the question at the moment. He has a more important concern, a primitive one that blocks all others, the desire to touch and be touched. He yearns to explore every inch of Jack and taste every flavor. The first discovery he makes is that Jack lives an underwear optional lifestyle. Today he must have rolled a six, or landed on heads, or whatever he does to decide that he will not partake. Rhys’ cheeks develop a pink tinge that Jack makes sure to point out. “See something you like, cupcake?”

It's always the moments when Jack is closest to him that Rhys takes size difference into account. Jack might not be much taller than him, with the right pair of shoes he might even be shorter, but where Rhys is thin and boney, Jack is thick and toned. Where his skin is frail and fair, Jack's is tough and bronzed. Now that he knows of yet another department where Jack beats him in size, he feels like an even greater beast is towering over him.

“That- that's to be determined,” he finally stutters, trying to draw comparisons less conspicuously.

Jack's smirk clearly says that he can discern Rhys’ line of sight. “That's my Rhysie,” he teases. “A staunch businessman, always evaluating me.”

Rhys hums in agreement. The rest of his breath comes out in a sigh as Jack sucks and nips at the nape of his neck. Jack does his best to avoid leaving marks on visible areas, but any area at the shoulders and below is free game for a hickey or two, or twelve. Rhys’ eyes melt shut as he enjoys the sensation of warm and slightly rough lips following the curve of his body. Inevitably they end up below his waist. That's when Rhys realizes that masturbation and sex are far more divergent than he imagined, not that his mother would approve of either. His own hand was methodical and predictable, but each of Jack's touches are spontaneous and electrifying. Rhys’ back arches as Jack laps and licks away at him. The obscene sound of it alone puts Rhys on the brink. He opens his eyes long enough to see Jack returning his gaze as he licks a stripe up the full length of his cock. Naturally he doesn't see Jack's next move with his eyes closed again. He whinces at the cool, slick finger working its way inside of him.

“Jack, wha-”

“Sssshhh, Jack's gonna take real good care of you, princess. It'll feel good soon, I promise.” Rhys takes his word for it, and sure enough the pain dissolves into a pleasure Rhys has never felt so strongly. The wave of heat creeps through him from his curled toes to the pink tips of his ears. He didn't think when Jack's fingers left him he would be impulsively crying out for “more.” Jack doesn't seem to move after that until Rhys opens his eyes. “You sure you want to go through with this?” he asks as if it were merely an inane platitude.

For the first time that night, he wonders if he is. Ever since his mother had brought it up when he was around twelve years old the concept of virginity had always loomed in the back of Rhys’ mind like an amorphous cloud withholding its purpose. Certainly he had no desire to approach it.  His only understanding stemmed from the convictions of his mother, who had recited the same mantra from the very onset of puberty and beyond. To be a virgin was to be of moral and physical purity. The only appropriate circumstance in which to taint this purity was in a stable marriage with a woman of great modesty, soft-spoken beauty, and outward dignity. That idea suited teenage Rhys right down to the ground, although he could not comprehend it, nor could he understand that his mother's teachings stemmed not from religious fervency, but rather from a desire to maintain a cleaner record for her heir than her own. The woman herself had never been extraordinarily clean in business, or her private life, so her son must be all but a saint, a breath of fresh air in the toxic and corrupt fog of their competitors. He knows mother might be a bit angry at him for losing his v card in circumstances that did not meet her parameters, he could scarcely call Jack a genteel, poised woman, but as a cynical twenty-seven year old he can't find it in himself to care.

“More sure than I've ever been about anything,” he replies.

Jack accepts his answer with an almost flattered smile. His grin grows wider when Rhys shutters as he moves inside him, and wider still as each thrust gives way to a stream of moans and profanities the likes of which he never thought he'd hear from his darling's sweet lips. The way Rhys’ eyes roll up in his head, the way his prim, proper, back talking exterior fails to contain something so disgusting, and vile, and brimming with debauchery, Jack believes it to be what he truly wanted all along.

“I guess you were right, cupcake. _I do look good in Maliwan._ ” Rhys responds with a moan that lets Jack know he's getting close. Jack feels himself on the edge as well, but it's still not enough. He wants to see Rhys’ face at the very second he gives himself away, not knowing that he already did the first time Jack smiled at him.

It's not when Rhys’ eyes open so beautifully to look at him that Jack realizes he can never return to the other side of the door. It's not when his lips part ever so slightly with Jack's name on them. It's minutes later when Rhys looks up at him as he rests his head on his chest, and says three words Jack never thought he would hear to or from himself ever again. Jack simply lights a cigarette, the only thing he knows to do as self made travesty, and says, “well, shit happens.”

Rhys hadn't expected some sort of over the top reply, but certainly not the same thing to be said for losing your car keys or finding out your electrical bill is slightly higher this month.

“Wow. I tell you I love you and that's all I get. ' _shit happens?’”_

“Yep,” Jack answers, sending a cloud of smoke into Rhys’ face.

“Do you have to smoke?” Rhys coughs.”Mother will smell it on me,” he complains drowsily.

“I think that's the least of your problems if you're trying not to be found out, sweetheart,” Jack replies. He runs a finger down the curve of Rhys’ neck, over the red and purple splotches that now litter his pale skin. “You like it when I pay attention to your neck, don't you?” He purrs.

Blood heats up Rhys’ face. “Well, if you have to do that you could have at least offered me one,” he teases. With half lidded eyes he watches Jack take a long drag from the cigarette. Jack tilts his face up to his, giving Rhys a taste of the acrid flavor. Jack's tongue soon joins it in lazily exploring every nook and cranny of Rhys’ mouth, his lips as addictive as the nicotine.

“You know you love it,” Jack taunts him after he breaks the kiss. “Besides, I always have a cigarette after a good lay.” _Did Jack just compliment him?_ Rhys pouts nevertheless. “Fine,” Jack admits. “I may like you quite a bit more than most people.”

“That's the best I'm going to get from you isn't it?”

“Probably.” Rhys rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you one thing, cupcake. A few weeks ago when I started hanging around with you to make your old lady have a fit, I did not think it would get to this point. Kind of a surprise to me.”

“You were coming on to me just to make my mom angry?” Rhys snaps.

“Yeah, make her angry. Maybe score some Maliwan property here and there- Ouch!” Jack whines when Rhys’ foot glides through the sheets to land a firm kick to his shin.

“And are you _still_ doing that?” Rhys demands to know, scanning the room for sharp objects, just in case Jack turns out to be what his mother told him all men are like.

“No.”

“Well how long did it last then?” Rhys asks, still on the defense. Jack doesn't like how stiff and cagey he feels in his arms.

“If I'm honest with myself, maybe an hour, tops.” Rhys aims an incredulous glare at him. “Rhys, we're naked in bed having an argument. If you don't think this is a real relationship then what is?”

“I don't know... I don't really have a frame of reference do I?” Jack’s face is crossed by a smirk. Rhys sighs heavily. “Can you? Can you just not make this into a big deal?”

“Me? Make a big deal? Never. I’m just, you know, you've given me a chance to do something every man wishes he could.”

“What did we just agree to?”

“I’m not making a big deal! I just- You aren’t traumatized now or something right? Cause I’m gonna let you know right now that I have no idea how to deal with your... issues.”

“My issues?” Rhys hisses. “What issues? Why should I have issues?”

“Shit! Would you stop with the kicking?! I dunno, just all that purity nonsense or whatever they tell you schoolgirls.”

“I’ve already made eye contact with you, the purity ship has long since sailed.” Rhys slides his legs back to their former position, entangled with Jack’s. “Besides,” he hums, “how could something so good be bad?” He looks up at Jack with a lascivious grin, combing fingers through the tousled gray streaks in his hair.

Jack sits quietly for a minute, then he chuckles softly. “So how do you plan to hide this one?”

“It’s not like she can tell.”

“She’ll know.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something parents can do. You just feel it.”

Rhys hesitates. Jack's cautionary tone and rigidity warn him not to delve deeper into the subject. Even in his social ineptitude, Rhys knows that now is not the time to ask him about his experience as a parent, nor is anytime ever in which life exists in the universe.

“You sound more concerned than her.” Jack just puts his cigarette back in his mouth. Rhys nuzzles against his neck. “I think you might be in too deep.”

“I know,” Jack exhales a cloud of smoke. “It's disgusting.”

“I wish we could stay here,” Rhys murmurs.

“Me too.”

The door seems to disappear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you are wondering I am okay, my neck is rotting off though.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a chance for me to still give you guys content when Get Gone won't write itself.  
> Check for updates on my tumblr: http://jackassofbass.tumblr.com/


End file.
